


Hold My Hands Above My Head

by bravado



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Both cases are only minor mentions, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Facials, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Toys, Side Amy/Phillip - Freeform, dom!Kieren, sub!Simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravado/pseuds/bravado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is this… do you want this?” Kieren asks, voice scratchy and low, never breaking eye contact. Simon doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring up from where he's kneeling at Kieren's feet. Kieren weighs the risk, then tightens his grip on Simon’s hair, tilts Simon’s head back a little further. “Answer me, Simon.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>---------------------------------</p><p>It turns out that Kieren, despite (or perhaps because of) his gentle nature, is a natural dom and is more than willing to indulge Simon's submissive side, however slowly Simon needs. Still, things aren't all smooth going, because Simon isn't so great with communication and secrets of any kind can eat away at any relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

People who see them together usually assume Simon’s in charge. His shoulders are broader, hair darker and presence more intimidating, so it seems almost natural that he would lead in their relationship. But the people who know them - the people who see how Simon trails after Kieren, brushes fingertips reverently along Kieren’s wrist before ever taking his hand - they know better. Kieren is gentle, compassionate, but tenderness and dominance are far from exclusive. Rather, it is Kieren’s softness, his kind eyes, that make Simon so quick to submit.

Initially they’re gentle with each other, because this is new and fragile, and the hole where Amy used to be has made them brittle. They learn the curves and angles of the other’s body, how they fit together, how knees don’t quite bend right and shoulders slope sharply down. Kieren’s kisses are always firm and sure, but at first they’re sparse, stolen in quiet moments or given like apologies, reassurances, confirmations. Simon mouth is ever desperate for lips on his and the nape of a neck beneath his fingers.

It takes almost a month for Kieren to realise that Simon only ever kisses back, never demands his touch or asks for his lips. He had almost, once, in the bungalow kitchen, but never again after that.

“You’re allowed to kiss me first, you know.” Kieren says one morning when he arrives at the bungalow. Simon looks up from the paper he’s reading.

“Yeah, I know.” He replies. Kieren sidles up beside him, presses cool lips to Simon’s.

“Just making sure.”

Simon starts kissing him after that. Kieren pretends not to notice how he sometimes looks like he wants to ask for permission first.

 

* * *

 

When Amy turns up out of the blue one Sunday morning Kieren just about has a heart attack. Of course, being dead negated any actual health risks, but the shock of it is so sudden, so severe that his immediate response is to break down. She holds him through the sobs that wrack his body, kisses his hair and hushes him, her hands warm at the back of his neck.

“How? Amy- I don’t- you were dead, I saw you. I saw your coffin, Amy.” He doesn’t care about how broken his voice sounds, or the fact that they’re crumpled on the front step to his house, Amy shivering in the wind.

_Shivering._

Her cheeks are pink, eyes hazel, her teeth are chattering and she’s so beautifully, wonderfully alive that he doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m here now, handsome. That’s what matters.” Amy says in that perfect way of hers, voice light regardless of the dark circles under her eyes. It’s not enough, Kieren needs more than that – an explanation, some reason behind this miracle, but it’s then that Sue stops dead in the porch door and gasps. For the time being explanations can wait.

They go inside, because Amy’s warm skin can feel the cold now, Kieren running bluish fingertips over the gooseflesh on her arm. Sue sets another place for Amy, who settles in as if she had never gone, except for the hand she keeps linked with Kieren’s – as if to keep herself from drifting away. Or perhaps to keep this all from drifting away from her. Kieren can’t stop watching her; the way she blinks more frequently now, wolfs down Sue’s pancakes as if she hasn’t eaten in years. The way her fingers flex when he squeezes them too tight. When Jem wanders down from her bedroom and lays sleepy eyes on Amy’s she freezes.

Then she storms over and hugs Amy for all she’s worth.

“Don’t you ever leave him again.” She growls, but Amy’s eyes are wet and she wraps her arms tightly around Jem.

Kieren insists on walking Amy to the bungalow, won’t let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes for fear that when he looks back she’ll be gone. They’re trudging through the muddy Roarton backstreets, because Amy’s not quite ready for the “spot of bother” her return will undoubtedly bring. Still, she links her arm in his when they walk and bumps his shoulder playfully, asking about everything from Jem’s favourite band to the Roarton Soccer Club. It’s eerie, Kieren thinks, how comfortable she seems in acting as if she’d never been gone.

“Where did you go?” Kieren asks after a while, not at all used to the hazel eyes that turn to him. “How are you back?”

“Back alive?” She laughs, “That I did all by myself, Kieren Walker. Thought I was going rabid at first, what with the shaky hands and nosebleeds, was ready to have Phillip mercy kill me, would you believe?” No, Kieren cannot believe. “But then, what do you know? I started feeling things again! Wetness, temperature, pain.” She giggles at him, steering them around a corner and through an empty field that she swears is a shortcut.

“Wait, shaky hands? Like- like tremors?”

“Yeah, they were weird. You could shake them out, of course, but man they were spooky at first.” Kieren does not tell her about the way his hands trembled at her funeral. That can wait, because apparently they have time now. Still, none of what she had said explains how she’s… back. Her body had been in that coffin, Kieren had helped carry its weight through the graveyard, and yet…

“Amy, where did you go?” At his side she’s quiet for the longest time, staring into the middle-distance.

“You can only come back if you go away.” She says softly, and he frowns, because that’s not good enough. He needs to know how this is possible, how she’s standing there beside him, warm and soft and lovely. Metaphors are not enough for Kieren right now.

“Amy, please-”

“I went to a treatment centre. It’s not important.” Her voice is sharp, and when he goes to protest she snaps. “Don’t ask again, Kieren.” Then gentler, “Please, don’t.” So Kieren doesn’t, letting them walk in silence in the crisp morning air. Amy shudders and huddles a little closer to his side, but otherwise stays quiet beside him. It’s only when they’re around the corner from the bungalow that she speaks again.

“How’re you and Simon?” It’s a loaded question, open to so many interpretations that Kieren can’t even begin to figure out what he should say. Yeah, he’s good, we spent three hours snogging on the couch the other day? Two weeks ago we jerked each other off in my room while my family was downstairs but he’s afraid to hold my hand in public? The first time we shared a bed he had a nightmare so violent I had to hold him for almost an hour before he stopped shaking?

“We’re good.” Kieren says lamely.

“Just good? You should be in the honeymoon phase! Giving each other butterflies in your tummies and snogging all the time, having wild kinky sex followed by dumb romcom movie marathons.” Amy’s voice is light, but her eyes aren’t as bright as they usually are.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, because while he’ll never be sorry for wanting Simon, for having Simon, he knows it hurt her.

“I know, love.” She says. “I know.”

Kieren knocks on the door to the bungalow, standing strategically in front of Amy in an attempt to lessen the shock for Simon. When the door opens Simon’s hair is a mess, still in his socks and rubbing sleep from his eyes, but he gives Kieren a surprised smile and leans in for a kiss. Kieren pulls back, and Simon looks like he’s been punched.

Then he sees Amy.

Simon’s face goes slack, eyes wide while his arms, which had been reaching for Kieren, fall to his sides. For a moment Kieren thinks he might pass out, but he doesn’t – he just stands there, slack-jawed and silent.

“Hey, Mr. Disciple.” Amy says. Simon doesn’t reply, but he closes his mouth, jaw flexing as his eyes flick to Kieren. They’re more scared than they are hurt, but Kieren steps forward, takes Simon’s hand in his. Neither says anything, but already Simon’s changing, shoulders loosening a little while the fist that had clenched at his side unfurls. Amy watches the whole exchange silently, a strange, sad smile on her face. “Did you take good care of by BDFF while I was gone?”

The question makes Simon’s mouth turn up in a surprised half-smile. “Did my best, yeah…” Amy smiles properly then, before shouldering past the boys and into the house. They can hear her heels clacking on the kitchen floor, but Simon turns to Kieren, brows furrowed and mouth downturned.

“How-”

“She won’t say.” Kieren whispers back, “I asked, all she mentioned was a treatment centre, nothing else.” A dark look crosses Simon’s face at the mention of the treatment centre, but he leaves it for the time being.

“Kieren, she’s- she’s _living._ ” Simon says.

“I know.” Kieren glances down the hall to where Amy’s laughter is filtering out from the living room. He smiles. “It’s a miracle.” He doesn’t get a response to that, but Simon follows when he heads in to find Amy, their fingers still twined.

Not an hour has passed before there’s a frantic knocking at the door. Amy gets up to answer it before either of the boys can stop her, racing into the hallway behind her in horror. When Phillip falls through the doorway, panting and up to his ankles in mud splatters, they relax.

Amy has to sit on the couch with Phillip in her arms for almost twenty minutes before he stops sobbing, hands clutching desperately to her pink skirt. Retreating to Simon’s room, Kieren settles on the side of the bed but Simon paces aimlessly for several long minutes before sinking down in the corner. They’ve not been together long, but Kieren knows what that means, knows what phantom pains must be running down Simon’s spine. He stands and moves over to Simon, rearranging him until he can slip into the space between his back and the wall. It’s only seconds before Simon is leaning back against his chest, restless fingers going still against his own thighs. Kieren simply reaches down to cover Simon’s hands with his own.

“She’s back. That’s all that matters.” He says quietly. “We’re going to be okay. All of us.”

 

* * *

 

The following days are surreal, Kieren alternating between unadulterated joy and paralysing terror at Amy’s return, constantly afraid that he may wake up and realised he had dreamed her. After a few weeks, however, things seem to return to the odd normalcy they had had prior to Amy’s death. Of course, there’s food in the bungalow now, and Sue sends Kieren over with a tiny heater one day for Amy’s constant shivering, but otherwise life seems settled. The town takes Amy’s return surprisingly well; no one bar the Walkers and Wilsons will talk to or go anywhere near her, but there have been no death threats or anything of the like, so Kieren counts it as a win.

Simon struggles with Amy’s presence more than most, flinching sometimes when she enters a room unexpectedly. He has more nightmares as well, which he tries to hide at first. It’s only been a week since Amy’s returned when Kieren wakes to Simon shaking in the bed beside him, breathing shallow and harsh while his fingers twitch against the sheets. Kieren shakes him awake, lets Simon curl into his chest and holds him through the tremors, pressing soft kisses to his forehead. Simon doesn’t fall back to sleep for over an hour. After that Kieren spends almost every night for a week at the bungalow.

Naturally Amy walks in one morning and finds them curled around each other, sleep-rumpled and soft. She laughs at Simon’s look of intense embarrassment, the happy sound continuing even as she drifts towards the kitchen, but Kieren kisses Simon sweetly afterwards. From that moment onwards Amy teases them relentlessly, and Kieren lets her; half because he remembers the hurt way she looked at them for the first few weeks, half because she’s his best dead friend forever and that’s what they do. Still, she softens every wolf-whistle with an easy laugh, and happily co-ordinates her dates with Phillip to give them time alone at the bungalow.

Their _thing_ begins during one of those times.

They’re kissing heatedly, pressed against the wall of the bungalow hallway. Amy’s at the Wilson’s having dinner with Shirley and Phillip now that she’s able to stomach almost a meal a day. Kieren’s back is to the plaster, his hands tangled in Simon’s hair, apparently their new favourite place to be. Both of them are hard in their jeans, having spent nearly an hour kissing lazily on the couch before deciding to move to the bedroom. They hadn’t quite made it yet. Simon sucks at Kieren’s lips, presses panting little kisses down his throat before biting down on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

Kieren groans, hands tugging a little too sharply at Simon’s hair. He’s instantly aware of what he’s done, an apology already forming on his kiss-swollen lips, but-

Simon moans and drops heavily to his knees.

There’s a moment of tense, terrifying silence as they realise what has happened. From the floor Simon stares up at him, eyes wide and a little desperate even as Kieren can see the bulge still tenting his jeans. He looks afraid, of rejection or acceptance, Kieren doesn’t know which. When it becomes apparent Simon isn’t going to say anything, Kieren speaks up.

“Is this… do you want this?” Kieren asks, voice scratchy and low, never breaking eye contact.

Simon doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring up at him, lips slightly parted and pupils threatening to overcome his white irises. Kieren weighs the risk, then tightens his grip on Simon’s hair, tilts Simon’s head back a little further. He goes willingly.

“Answer me, Simon.” When it comes, Simon’s response is so soft he barely catches it, the word breathed out on the end of an exhale.

“Yes.”

Kieren watches him, the way his throat works at the odd angle, neck bent to gaze back up at Kieren. He seems to be on the verge of saying something, so Kieren waits silently.

“Please.” Simon says finally. It’s a plea and an admission all in one, dangerous, desperate and tinged with shame. Kieren won’t deny him.

“We need to talk about this.” Simon’s eyes drop to about the level of Kieren’s knees, his expression falling with it. He shuffles a little, as if he intends to stand. Kieren won’t have it, uses his grip on Simon’s hair to tug his face back up, though more gently than before. “But we can do that later. I’m not sure how this will all work, to be honest with you.” Slowly he works his fingers through Simon’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “But for now, we can just try this, okay?” He yanks Simon’s hair again, to make it clear. Simon moans, just softly, but Kieren needs more than that.

“Okay, Simon?”

“Yeah, yes.” He replies, nodding then grunting when it causes Kieren’s hands to tighten.

“Okay.”

There’s a moment, then, when neither is quite sure what to do. Kieren’s thumb brushes lightly behind Simon’s ear, then suddenly Simon is leaning forward, pressing his face to Kieren’s hip and breathing against the fabric of his jeans.

 _He’s waiting for permission_ , a tiny part of Kieren’s mind suggests. It could be wrong, but the way Simon peers up at him seems evidence enough to the contrary.

“Undo my trousers?” It sounds too much like a question, but Simon’s breath hitches, so it’s good enough for now. His fingers shake minutely as he draws down the fly, pops the button. He glances up at Kieren, who nods, before pushing down Kieren’s boxer briefs and pulling out his purple-flushed cock. He’s still half-hard, but Simon strokes him quickly to full hardness before looking up for further instruction. Simon licks his lips, the action so quick Kieren almost misses it, but its meaning is clear.

“Open your mouth.”

Simon does instantly, a soft groan slipping out even as he guides Kieren’s cock to rest on his lower lip. He flicks his tongue across the soft skin at the head of Kieren’s cock, the sight and sensation making Kieren moan quietly.

“This okay?” Kieren asks again. He needs to be sure, can’t help it when this is completely new territory.

Simon’s tongue flicks out, just brushing the head of Kieren’s cock. It’s the only answer he gives before Kieren’s pushing forward shallowly, the soft pressure of Simon’s inviting mouth a familiar pleasure. What’s new, however, is the way Simon lets Kieren guide him, the hands at the back of his head drawing him closer until he’s bobbing his head, sucking Kieren steadily. The rush of power is heady, but Kieren’s more thrown by the responsibility Simon has given him, the trust implicit in the way he had dropped to his knees, the way he lets Kieren thrust deeper into his mouth.

He wouldn’t trust Simon like this, Kieren recognises. Sure, he could get on his knees and open his mouth to him, but not like this. Not with such eagerness, such willingness to please and serve. He couldn’t give himself up to Simon the way Simon is giving himself up to him. The thought is overwhelming, because how could Simon be so ready to trust him like this at the barest impulse?

Kieren can’t think about it now, can’t weigh the implications of this submission. Instead he grips Simon’s hair tighter, begins to jerk his hips to meet each of Simon’s downward movements. Below him Simon groans, the vibrations sending spikes of heat shivering down Kieren’s spine while Simon swirls his tongue expertly over and around the head of Kieren’s cock. He feels his orgasm build fast, gazing down at the dark smudge of Simon’s lashes closed against his pale cheekbones as he sucks Kieren eagerly. Then he notices the way Simon’s hands are fisted on his thighs.

 _He’s not touching himself_ , Kieren realises, _because I haven’t told him he can._

A loud moan escapes him, and then he’s coming like it’s been punched out of him, barely managing to warn Simon with a sharp tug to his hair. He had intended to pull Simon off, but it has the opposite effect, Simon sucking harder and swallowing around his cock as Kieren shakes apart. Panting, Kieren stares down as Simon sucks him through the aftershocks, eventually letting his softening cock slip from between his lips.

Simon’s eyes are glassy as Kieren moves one hand slowly around to press a thumb to Simon’s bottom lip, rubbing it along the wet, purplish skin. Unblinking, Simon sucks the digit into his mouth, tongue pressing firmly to the pad of Kieren’s finger. It’s surprisingly erotic, and Kieren feels heat stirring in his gut even so quickly after his orgasm. He draws his finger away, tucking himself back into his pants one-handed, the other still buried in Simon’s hair.

“Touch yourself.” Kieren says, and he’s surprised by just how rough his voice is. Below him Simon makes a soft noise, pressing his forehead to Kieren’s hip as he unceremoniously unbuttons his jeans and shoves a hand into his boxers. Kieren runs his fingers through Simon’s hair as he watches him jerk himself, the movement of his arm rapid and desperate. He’s panting against the fabric of Kieren’s jeans, but he makes a small, needy noise and pushes almost imperceptibly into the hand still pressed to the back of his head.

“Please?”

It’s the first word Simon’s uttered since they began, hitched and breathy against Kieren’s hip. For a moment Kieren isn’t sure what Simon wants, what he needs, but then he remembers what started it all, what brought them to his point. He twines his hands in Simon’s hair and tugs sharply until Simon’s coming with a cry, hand stilling in his shorts. He trembles a little as he comes down, eyes shut and forehead still pressed to Kieren’s hip. Kieren just cards his hands through dark hair, runs soothing fingers over the nape of Simon’s neck until his breathing evens out.

Then he waits.

A part of it is because he’s not entirely sure what to do now, but the other, greater part is centred in a desire to let Simon decide where they’re going to go from here. Kieren knows that Simon lets him lead, and clearly Simon is more than happy to have him in charge. Yet the shame that had clouded Simon’s eyes when he’d first dropped to his knees is still clear in Kieren’s mind. So he waits.

After several long minutes Simon moves, wiping his hand on his jeans before slowly standing up. Kieren lets his hands drop from Simon’s hair, resting them lightly on his hips instead, reluctant to stop touching him. He watches Simon’s face, but Simon won’t meet his eyes. Simon opens his mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it and presses his lips into a thin line. His brow furrows, then he tries again.

“I- uh,” his voice is rough, and Kieren can’t help the short burst of heat at the thought of why, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to, uh- I didn’t think I’d do that.” It’s strange to hear Simon, usually so eloquent, fumble for words. Kieren smiles, leans up to kiss Simon sweetly on the mouth.

“It’s okay. It was good.” He says. Relief washes over Simon’s features and he finally meets Kieren’s eyes. “We still have to talk about it.” Kieren says, because he has a feeling this won’t be a one-off thing, that maybe Simon wants it more than he’s willing to admit, and these things need boundaries. Simon has gone still, but his eyes seem a little out of focus, like he’s not entirely there.

“But not right now.”

 

* * *

 

Amy returns just as evening is creeping into the sky, calling out an exaggerated warning that she's coming in and they “better not be naked on any of her gran’s furniture”. She wanders into the living room to find Simon stretched out on the couch, head in Kieren’s lap, having his hair stroked as the pair watched telly.

“Gross little lovebirds, the two of you!” She exclaims, laughing when Simon startls. He had been staring at the screen blankly for the better part of an hour, and while Kieren wanted to attribute that to his own skill at head massages (Jem got terrible migraines when she was stressed), he wasn’t sure that was all there was to it. They hadn’t spoken about what had happened, and he could feel it hanging in the air between them.

It isn't long before Amy is shooing Kieren out of the bungalow, allowing him to press a brief kiss to Simon’s forehead before dragging him to the door by the hand.

“You have to get home, mister, it’s past your curfew and Sue will start to worry we’re leading you down a dangerous path or something.” She says, hugging him tightly on the doorstep. Kieren snorts.

“Amy, it’s barely half-six.”

“Exactly my point.” She responds, tapping his nose as if the matter was settled. He’s chuckling even as he trudges towards the street, waving goodbye to Amy’s silhouette in the doorframe and the dark outline of Simon in the hall behind her. It’s cold out, Kieren assumes, frost starting to cling to the lawns he passes, but he doesn’t hurry home, enjoying the way the last shades of red seep from the clouds as the sky turns to night. He’d always liked dusk, the transition from dark to light, that in-between state that he’d related to during his first life.

As he walks Kieren thinks; he doesn’t even try to delude himself into believing he can ignore what had happened. Every time he blinks the image of Simon dropping so easily to his knees replays against the back of his eyelids, and he finds himself clenching his hands into fists even where they’re buried in his hoodie pockets. The act alone wasn’t so surprising, considering how many times Simon had happily taken up residence at Kieren’s feet to suck him off, but there was no denying that tonight had been different. Simon had exposed himself, let something vulnerable and needy slip out from his armour of words and philosophy.

_Kieren had loved it._

Had loved fisting his hands in Simon’s hair and urging him in closer, revelled in every shallow thrust into Simon’s mouth, the way his hands had stayed on his thighs until Kieren had given him permission, _permission,_ to touch himself. The trust implicit in the act was overwhelming, the way Simon had so willingly let himself be moulded by Kieren’s hands and instructions, but that alone wasn’t it.

Even as Kieren walks the deserted streets of Roarton he feels the memories return, fuzzy around the edges like many of his less important ‘living’ recollections, but still there. Rick had been keeping him company one night while his parents were away, staying in the city overnight after Jem had needed an emergency appendectomy. He’d brought his fancy new laptop and spent almost an hour watching shitty punk bands on Youtube with an enraptured Kieren at his side (who was still, at that time, sporting several studded leather wristbands and black nail polish). When he’d gone to have a shower, Kieren had decided to rewatch a few of the earlier videos. Opening up the ‘history’ menu while he sung under his breath about ‘where is your boy tonight’ and ‘I hope he is a gentleman’, Kieren had stumbled across something very different.

Finding porn in a teenage boy’s browser history wasn’t that big a deal. Finding gay porn, on the other hand, was. A thousand questions had shot through Kieren’s mind, most tied to the way Rick had grown prone to staring at his mouth an awful lot, and he’d clicked the first link. The video had started simple; a blonde and a redhead talking on a couch, then kissing, grinding against each other in designer jeans. He’d skipped forward, hoping for he didn’t know what, and the screen had cut to the smaller guy on his knees, arms bound tightly behind his back as the redhead slowly fucked him from behind. Kieren had felt himself flush, felt his teenage body respond instantly, already tight jeans growing even tighter.

Across the hallway the shower squeaked off. Panicking, Kieren exited the window and went back to Youtube, hitting the first video he saw. When Rick had returned, hair still damp, Kieren was staring glassy-eyed at a mundane cat video. He’d laughed, joked about Kieren having a soft side ‘even under all that fake leather’ and plonked back down beside him to pick out a movie from his ‘Not Illegally Downloaded Films’ folder. That night Kieren lay awake, silent and still as he listened to Rick quietly jerk himself off on the mattress on the floor, and the whole time all he could think about was how Rick’s strong arms would look in ropes.

Kieren had never addressed the thoughts, never told anyone about it or tried anything out, and he’d certainly never mentioned it to Rick. Not even the few times Rick had let him touch him in the darkness of the cave, especially considering Rick would never touch him back. But after that night he’d often found himself sketching arms with rope marks on their skin, or shading chafe marks on unidentified wrists. The only computer he had access to was the family one, so porn was a rare commodity, but when he had the house to himself he would explore. A lot of the stuff was too violent for him, the dom so focused on getting what they wanted that there seemed to be no thought given to the sub, but sometimes he found good stuff. A chubby girl tying a tattooed boy to the bed, rimming him until he cried and then pegging him. A lithe, brown-skinned boy blindfolding his tank of a sub and raking nails down his chest as he rode him torturously slow. Kieren always came quickly to these, panting as he bit down on his hand, staining his black jeans, but he loved every second he spent imagining it was him in their position. Rick was the furthest thing from a submissive imaginable, but a boy could dream…

The memories stir something in Kieren, something possessive and protective, as he thinks again of how Simon had leaned so willingly into his touch. He would have never picked it, but there were signs, now that he thought about it, little things in the way Simon worshipped people (God, the Undead Prophet, _Kieren_ ) that he now saw with a different perspective. Simon liked to have a purpose, to please people that he admired, respected, loved. It just ran deeper than Kieren had anticipated. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. _Simon enjoys serving,_ his mind whispers treacherously, _why not give him someone to serve?_

He shakes the thought from his mind as he comes to his driveway, because dominating his zombie lover really isn’t something he should be pondering over family dinner. Still, it lingers in the back of his mind all night, rising to the surface every now and again. He excuses himself to his room after the third time Jem catches him spacing out mid conversation, claiming weariness, but his sister has always been too clever for her own good and she mouths Simon’s name even as Kieren’s heading up the stairs.

That night Kieren does research. He waits until 2am, until his family are all well and truly asleep, before sneaking downstairs and booting up the ancient computer. He really needs to invest in a laptop, Kieren thinks as he opens an incognito window, hesitating briefly before keying in ‘Dom/sub relationship’.

By the time he’s finished it’s almost dawn, and he slinks back up to his room with two printed pages in hand. He then jerks himself off to the thought of Simon’s wrists contrasted with red bonds, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

* * *

 

They don’t mention it for almost a week.

True, they only see each other a few times, and usually in the company of Kieren’s family (Sue has become prone to inviting Simon to dinners he can’t eat) but the fact remains. Amy asks about it, when they’re out visiting Rick and her Grandmother.

“Are you and Simon good?” She says, newly warm breath puffing out in little clouds in front of her. Kieren frowns, more out of concern than anything else.

“Yes. Did he say something?” Amy shakes her head, cheeks pink and flush in the morning chill.

“Nah, he just seemed a little spaced out lately.” She says, then brightens, “But hey, he’s always been an oddball, that boy of ours. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Still, Kieren’s not entirely sure what to say, remembering the way Simon had stayed quiet for almost an hour after the event, reluctant to leave Kieren’s presence the whole time. The conversation lingers at the back of his mind for days, and he finds himself touching Simon more frequently in the interim – a hand on his forearm, their knees touching under the table. Little things, just to make sure Simon knows he’s still there. Simon must notice the attention, arches his eyebrows in surprise a few times, but doesn’t say anything.

It’s not until Kieren’s sketching on one of the couches at the bungalow, Simon slouched in an armchair reading, that he decides to bring it up. He flicks fingertips over the corners of the two pages slipped into the back of his sketchbook.

“Simon?” Kieren waits for Simon to look up and, marking his page, close his book. “The other day… when you, you know.” Simon’s eyes flit away, chin ducking and the line of his shoulders tensing as Kieren fumbles the words. It’s the opposite of what Kieren wants, this clear withdrawal, so he exhales slowly and speaks the next words clear and calm into the now charged air between them.

“Did you want that to be a one-time thing?”

Simon’s head quirks up, catching Kieren’s gaze, clearly not having expected that particular question. He doesn’t say anything though, mouth pressed into a thin line while his fingers skitter restlessly over the cover of his book.

“We can forget about it, if you want. I’m okay with that.” Kieren continues, knowing he has Simon’s undivided, nervous attention. “But I’m also more than willing to try it again. Provided we talk about it first, set boundaries, all that stuff. I just need to know what you want.” Again Simon shifts, eyebrows furrowed while he stares at his lap, as if the worn fabric of his trousers are going to give him the answer to Kieren’s question.

Kieren’s almost ready to drop it, to pretend he never said anything about the issue, when Simon finally speaks up.

“I want to try more.” Simon’s head is still bowed but the response is clear.

“Okay.” Kieren says, unable to help the small smile that quirks at his lips. The way Simon’s fingers worry at the spine of his book is endearing, despite his clear anxiety, which Kieren wants desperately to alleviate. “Well, first things first; I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, I did research, looked into… well, everything, really. But I’ve never done this kind of thing before, so you’re pretty much going to have to tell me what you want and how you want it.”

Across the room Simon’s eyes are wide, lips parted as if he meant to say something, a look of awe and surprise colouring his pale features. Kieren frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just- I didn’t expect you to be so… on board.” He says it like a question, the corner of his mouth jumping up in a brief smile as he watches Kieren. “I mean, I’ve been told I’m not the most obvious sub, so sometimes I can… well, I’ve had some less than enthusiastic responses.” The self-deprecating tone grates at Kieren, but he says nothing, knows that now isn’t the time.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to me being on board.” He says, pulling a short chuckle from Simon, “Come here?” Kieren doesn’t expect Simon to jump to obey, and Simon doesn’t, eyebrows quirking as he rises and slowly strides across the room to drop onto the couch beside Kieren. Flipping to the last pages of his sketchbook, Kieren draws two sheafs of paper from where they’re pressed to the back cover, handing one to Simon. He can’t hold back a smirk when Simon’s eyes flit from the page to his face, a mix of shock and mild admiration shining there.

“You keep sex lists with your art supplies?” he asks incredulously, though there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. Kieren kisses him, brief and chaste.

“Only for you.” He snarks back. “All the sites I went on recommended filling one out when you try this kind of stuff out for the first time, so I figured it was our best bet.” Something has changed in Simon’s face, a strange expression that Kieren can’t interpret clouding his eyes.

“Is that okay? I mean, you don’t have to fill it out if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“No, it’s not that, the sheet’s fine.” His mouth quirks down, “People don’t usually go to that much effort, is all.”

A surge of possessiveness rises in Kieren like a cresting wave, furious that Simon sees the most basic of efforts as a luxury, especially when it comes to something as personal, as vulnerable, as his own submission. Kieren opens his mouth to reply, to tell him that _no, you are worth every effort_ , but the thinly-veiled excitement with which Simon is reading down the list in his hands stops him. _Not now,_ Kieren thinks, _save it for when he will believe it_. Instead he leans towards the coffee table for one of the many pencils he keeps there in a tiny cat-shaped cup, one of Amy’s particular favourites. Taking one for himself, he rummages around for a pen for Simon, who has a distinct preference for ink over graphite.

“I guess you know the drill.” With another short kiss he presses the pen into Simon’s hand, then moves back to fill in his own sheet. It’s split into four columns, the first listing many basic (and some not-so-basic) kinks, followed by a ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘maybe’ column for each. At the bottom there are a few other questions, covering safewords, aftercare and the like. Beginning at the top he works his way down, the majority of his ticks going into the ‘maybe’ column, a few littering the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ ones. He tries not to be nosy, but can’t help noticing the way Simon seems to hesitate every other minute, pen hovering over the page before making a small mark. Kieren finishes first by a long way, however he sits quietly and lets Simon take his time to finish, moving back up the sheet several times to revisit initial answers.

Eventually they’re both done, and Simon tentatively offers his page to Kieren, who replaces it with his own. Kieren wriggles closer, until their thighs are pressed together, and scans down Simon’s list. There’s a small, neat ‘S’ in the ‘yes’ column for ‘Dominance and Submission”, which comes as no surprise, along with several ticks for edging, fingering, rimming and toys. Water sports and scat are both in the no column, to Kieren’s massive relief, as are knife and electric play and name-calling. In the ‘aftercare’ section at the bottom Simon’s neat print reads ‘Immediately after scenes’, and a part of Kieren drops at the thought of how adrift Simon had seemed for almost an hour after their encounter days prior. He pushes the thought away, promising that he would never make that mistake again, and goes back to the list. There’s a scribbled out tick in one of the ‘maybe’ boxes, and Kieren reads across to see it has been replaced by a cross in the ‘no’ column beside bondage/restrains. Simon had told him about the treatment centre, a bare to the bones description of what they had done to him, but it was more than enough for Kieren not to question the decision.

“What are the question marks for?” Kieren inquires after a minute, having noticed the curved little symbols in a few places under the ‘yes’ column. Simon leans over, looking down at where Kieren is pointing to one of them. It’s next to spanking.

“They’re things I used to like, before.” He supplies, leaving off the implied _I died_ at the end. “But because most of them are focussed on pain, I’m not sure if I’ll still be into them, what with us not feeling it anymore.” Simon points to another of the question marks, higher up the list, “And I still like the idea of breath play, but again, we don’t really need to breathe so it might not have the same effect.”

Kieren nods, “So you’re okay with trying them, but it’s not guaranteed you’ll still get anything out of them. Okay.” He then turns to look at Simon, bringing their faces suddenly very close. Simon exhales, the air ghosting across Kieren’s lips. “Any questions about mine?” Kieren says softly, which seems to bring Simon back to the moment as he turns now to the sheet in his own hands.

“You have restraints in the yes column.” He says simply, voice devoid of any inflection. It’s the one he uses when he thinks he’s going to be refused, and that sends a sharp stab of hurt through Kieren at its implications.

“And you have it down as a no, so we won’t do it. I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to, Simon.”

“I know.” Simon says. The pleased undertone in his voice says otherwise, but Kieren lets it go for now, pressing a reassuring kiss to Simon’s shoulder. “It’s just that I used to like it, you know; being held down or tied up. So, maybe later we could try something. I just want to make sure you know it’s not off the table entirely.”

“Alright.” Kieren says slowly, not wanting to deny Simon but also not wanting to let him think that he had to compromise his own limits for Kieren’s pleasure. “But not until we’re more comfortable with this, okay? And not until we’re both ready.” Simon nods at that, the tiniest amount of relief in his white eyes.

“The only other thing would be how you want me to address you, I guess.” Kieren feels his eyes widen a little at that, surprised both by Simon’s bluntness and the fact that he hadn’t ever thought of it himself.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. Simon shrugs at that, as if they were discussing the weather and not what he would call Kieren when he was on his knees.

“Sir is the most popular, but some guys prefer master or something else.” The titles slip easily from Simon’s lips, but they sound almost aggressive to Kieren, heavy indicators of authority and control. Sure, that’s kind of the point, but Kieren doesn’t know how he feels about such rigid, formal titles for such a personal thing.

“I’d rather you just called me by my name, to be honest. I mean, we could try sir if you want,” But Simon’s already shaking his head.

“No, just Kieren.” He agrees. Kieren smiles at that, because this all seems to be going so much smoother than he had thought it would. He’s double checking their lists, making sure there are no other questions to raise, when he notices a blank spot on Simon’s he’d missed on his first read-through.

“You don’t have any safewords listed.” He puzzles, because that’s a pretty damn important thing to leave out. “Do you just use the general red, yellow, green indicators or…?” He leaves the question open, hoping Simon will fill the gap.

Simon’s looking at a point just above Kieren’s left ear, avoiding his eyes as he answers. “I didn’t really use them that much, to be honest. I was usually too fucked up to care, let alone remember any.”

“That’s really unsafe.” There’s a sharpness to his voice that wasn’t entirely intentional, but Kieren can’t help the stab of anger at how reckless, not to mention dangerous, it would be for Simon to have submitted without any set safewords. Added to his drug-addled state and the high probability that his dom would have been the same, Kieren has to work to push down the anger building in his gut. Telling Simon off isn’t going to change anything now.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’ve got you for. Keep me in line and all that.” It’s said like a joke, but Kieren hears the double meaning, knows the responsibility it entails.

“We’ll use the traffic light system then, if that’s okay with you.” Simon nods in response, knowing that it’s not a question. With an air of finality Kieren takes his sheet back from Simon and folds the two together, slipping them back in-between the pages of his sketchbook. There’s a strange look in Simon’s eyes, a mix of excitement and confusion, but it sways towards the latter when Kieren starts to resettle on the couch, flipping to a clean page to begin a new drawing. Kieren waits it out, knowing what Simon’s going to ask.

“We’re not starting now?” He says eventually, a hint of disappointment hanging from the last few syllables.

“Not unless you want Amy walking in on you bent over my knee or something.”

Simon makes a face that, in life, would have probably been accompanied by a blush. “Yeah, no. That’s cool.” He says, voice the tiniest bit strained, and Kieren waits until his back is turned before letting a smirk curl on his lips. Simon gets up, bending down for a slow kiss, one arm braced on the couch armrest, before wandering back to his armchair. He opens his book, but Kieren notices how infrequently he turns a page, eyes constantly wandering to a vague point on the ground by Kieren’s feet. Kieren says nothing – if Simon wants to be there, let him come of his own accord.

When Amy gets home half an hour later Simon’s still in his armchair pretending to read. Kieren’s not disappointed – he’s elated, really, at everything Simon has offered him, every possibility before them – and he knows Simon will come to him willingly in time.

“I’m making dinner!” Amy proclaims, lifting two small shopping bags triumphantly in the air. “Lamb’s brains, dumb dumbs, so you can actually eat some.” She adds when they both stare at her in wary confusion, then sashays into the kitchen, skirts swishing about her ankles.

“Amy, it’s two in the afternoon.” Simon calls after her, but they can already hear her pulling out pans and lighting the oven. It’s not long before they’re all in the kitchen, Kieren acting as ‘First Assistant Chef’ with the duties of handing Amy various cooking implements. Simon’s later named ‘Honorary Kitchen Eyecandy’, and Kieren catches him smiling fondly at him and Amy while they work. Eventually their meal is ready; for Amy a full plate of meat and vegetables, plus potatoes diligently mashed by the Eyecandy, and an eggcup of diced lambs brain for Kieren and Simon.  
Kieren can’t actually taste the meat, but the look on Amy’s face is well worth the strange sensation of actually eating for the first time in years. Across the table Simon picks at his, only eating a few mouthfuls before subtly pushing the eggcup away. Amy talks at length about her day, Phillip and the offer from Shirley to be trained as a PDS Carer, something she’s of two minds about.

“On the one hand, I want to help us, you know? Have someone on our side who knows what they’re doing. But what if it just did more harm than good, what with me being ex-commune? I don’t know.” Though Simon’s lip curls into a scowl at the idea, neither he nor Kieren corrects her use of ‘we’. She’s been human for some time now; eating, getting cold at night, yelping in pain whenever she gives herself a paper cut. But she won’t talk about the treatment centre where she woke up after Halperin and Weston exhumed her body. She knows she’s alive, but she won’t yet call herself one of the living.

“Oh, by the way,” She says through a mouthful of potatoes, “Phillip is taking me to London this weekend for a _romantic getaway._ ” The last two words are drawn out, Amy waggling her eyebrows suggestively while Kieren mimes throwing up. “We’re going to visit the Tower of London and everything, see where people used to get the chop.”

“He sure knows the way to a woman’s heart.” Simon quips, though his eyes are soft.

“Historical sights tend to work better than snogging my best friend in the street, oddly enough, but you did your best to woo me.” A familiar twinge of guilt hits Kieren, but he knows she means no harm, winking at him when she next catches his eye. “But you know, romantic weekends can be held at home too!” She adds, watching Simon as he collects her plate and rinses it in the sink.

Kieren doesn’t miss the hungry glance Simon shoots him at the suggestion.

 

* * *

 

Amy drops by the Walker house the next morning, beaming when she notices Jem’s wearing the flannel Batman pyjama pants she’d bought her. Jem feigns disinterest when Amy suggests a spa day, but Kieren sees the small smile lingering on his sister’s face when she makes her way back upstairs to change.

“You look ravishing, as always. Are those new jammies?” Amy remarks, dropping into the seat Jem had just vacated and plucking a slice of toast from his plate. Sue still forgets some mornings, making four breakfasts out of habit (it makes Kieren wonder what she did when he was gone).

“Yes, someone very beautiful and clever gave them to me to ‘liven up the bedroom’.” He deadpans. Amy smiles and plucks lint off the shoulder of his cookie monster pyjama shirt. She had a pyjama thing, no one bothered questioning it.

“Too true. But, alas, I am not just here to compliment you on your marvellous choice of sleepwear.” She rummages through the messenger bag slung across her shoulder, withdrawing a heavy book with a black cover. “You left this yesterday. Simon was going to bring it, but I was heading to Phillip’s anyway.” It’s his sketchpad, Kieren realises as Amy passes it to him. He bites his lip.

“You didn’t… look through it, did you?”

“Of course not, dum-dum! Gran always said art was very personal – an extension of the artists’ own soul.”

“She sounds lovely.” Kieren says, hoping the vague relief he feels doesn’t show.

“You should have heard her talk about bus fares. She could swear a mile a minute when she wanted to, my gran.” Amy laughs, a faraway look on her face. When she looks back at Kieren she frowns, eyes locked onto a point somewhere by Kieren’s nose.

“What?”

“Is that-” She reaches out, her hand quicker than Kieren’s, to wipe something from above his lip. When she draws away Kieren sees the dark stains on her hand, reaches up to touch just under his nose, his fingertips coming away black. He makes a face and wipes the gunk on a napkin, pressing it to his nose. When he turns back, however, Amy is beaming between the blackness on her fingers and his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” She shakes her head, giggling a little while rubbing her fingers against her skirt. “You’re coming back.”

Then she stands, shoving the last of her toast into her mouth and linking her arm in Kieren’s, dragging him up so he can walk her to the door. “I’d best be off then, Phillip loves when things arrive on time. Oh, and ask Jem if she wants me to get her anything in London! Maybe some new lipstick, she’d look great in plum.”

With a peck on the cheek Amy’s out the door, smiling at Steve as she passes and giving a thumbs-up when he points out how well his geraniums are growing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a long fic, I'm estimating around 50k words right now, so I'll most likely be updating once a week. Let me know what you like about it, where you think things need fixing, and even what you'd like to see in the future! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Though very interested in dom/sub relationships, I personally have no experience with them. While I do a great deal of research to try and accurately portray one, I recognise I may make mistakes in this depiction of a d/s relationship. If I've misrepresented anything or made an error in terminology/practice/etc. don't hesitate to let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

Amy and Phillip leave on Friday afternoon, catching the 5:23 train to London. By 5:30 Kieren’s already out the door, a small backpack slung over one shoulder filled with the necessities – toothbrush, change of clothes, a bottle of lube wrapped into two pairs of socks. Sue and Steve are at the table playing cards when he comes downstairs.

“Where are you off to?” Steve asks, peering over Sue’s shoulder.

“The bungalow.”

“I thought Amy was going to London with Phillip.” Steve says, brows knitting as he lowers the cards he had been holding close to his face.

“Yeah, she did.” Kieren responds slowly, because he really, really doesn’t want to have the conversation he thinks his dad is about to start. The _‘I’m going to the bungalow to see and most likely screw my undead boyfriend’_ conversation. Yeah, he’d prefer avoid that right now. Across the room Steve looks even more confused than before.

“I don’t think Kier’s going to see Amy, love.” Sue’s tone is mild, and she’s stealing a glance at Steve’s cards as she says it, but the implication is clear. She turns to Kieren with a conspiratorial smile. “We’ll see you for dinner Sunday night.” It’s a pass to leave, which Kieren takes eagerly, nodding to his parents before heading rather hastily for the door. Jem, who is standing in the porch and must have heard the whole exchange, merely winks as he passes.

The walk to the bungalow is quick, partly owing to Kieren’s own eagerness. Half of him wants to berate himself for being so… well, horny. For anticipating a weekend alone with Simon, full of bare skin and endless possibilities, laying in bed until noon and kissing for hours. For itching to get Simon beneath him, above him, anywhere near him so long as there are hands on bodies and the guarantee of a few good orgasms.

The other half of him is saying fuck it, let’s go.

Mixed in with the heady anticipation, however, is a twinge of nervousness. Kieren’s never done anything like this before – spend a weekend alone with someone. Let alone with someone who was willing to let him try the things he’s always wanted but could never ask for. Tiny shards of anxiety cut at Kieren like glass underfoot, but it doesn’t deter him, doesn’t stop him from wanting, _craving_.

Arriving at the bungalow just as the sky begins to purple, Simon’s waiting for him. Through the frosted glass panes of the front door Kieren can see his silhouette, a dark shape leaning against the wall that jumps as he knocks. When Simon answers the door he is smiling - the small, soft one he gives Kieren from time to time.

“Hey. I wasn’t sure when you were coming.” Simon says, moving aside to let Kieren in before closing the door behind them. Shrugging off his backpack as he wanders down the hall, Kieren drops it in the doorway of Simon’s room before turning to face him. There’s a tangible thread of anticipation between them.

“Is that why you were waiting by the door?” Simon ducks his head bashfully, which makes Kieren smile wider and press in close for a kiss. He means for it to be chaste, but the second his lips touch Simon’s he can feel the current under Simon’s skin, something that has him tightly wound in anticipation. Simon’s hands come up to curve around Kieren’s jaw while Kieren settles his own at Simon’s waist, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, Kieren dipping his tongue into Simon’s mouth to coax his out, sucking at it gently before pulling away. Simon makes to follow his mouth, chasing the kiss.

Breath washing over Kieren’s lips, Simon’s eyes flutter open after a moment. “ _That’s_ why I was waiting by the door.” He breathes, causing Kieren to tap their noses together before kissing Simon again, gentler this time. The heat between them is palpable, but Kieren’s not quite ready to give in to Simon yet, so he slows their kisses until some of the excitement simmers down.

Amy had left a few chores for them, including scrubbing off the graffiti left by Simon’s ‘ex-followers’ on the walls of the living room (“as payment for having undead sex in my gran’s house” the note says), so Kieren tries to direct his nervous energy into that. They’re done in barely an hour, as apparently Zoe had thought chalk was the most intimidating material to write Revelations with, and settle in on the couch to watch one of the many movies Amy has stacked by the tv.

Despite his talent in converting people to his cause, Simon isn’t incredibly talkative, and generally prefers to let Kieren lead conversations, throwing in questions here and there. One of the few things that really gets Simon talking, however, are movies. Good movies, bad movies, cheap indie flicks and million dollar blockbusters; Simon has a comment for them all, some quip or theory that quickly turns into a discussion of religious allusions and literary references. Kieren, who had always been more into music than movies, enjoys listening to him talk, though pausing the film every other scene to let Simon rabbit on about parallels gets tedious quickly.

It’s a little strange, what they’re doing, if Kieren’s being honest. It’s not quite a date, per se, but when he considers that having dinner together or going out for a meal is out of the question, it almost is a date. There’s no real structure to it - they can’t follow the typical small talk, dinner, film, sex timeline of a date night. They’re sitting close, Simon’s arm draped over Kieren’s shoulders while various things blow up onscreen, but neither has made a move to go any further. It feels like they’re stalling, Kieren suddenly realises, neither of them really paying attention to the action movie flashing on the screen. _Does Simon even like action movies_ , Kieren wonders, because he certainly doesn’t. Instead there’s electricity in the air, something Kieren can feel in the tension of Simon’s arm around his shoulders, the line of Simon’s thigh pressed against his. Simon’s tightly wound with anticipation and Kieren relishes it.

Kieren pushes himself up straighter, Simon’s arm slipping down where he’s slouched close on the lumpy couch. He looks up, the corners of his mouth quirked down, but immediately relaxes when Kieren pushes a hand into his hair, coaxing him to lean a little against Kieren’s chest. From this angle Kieren can run slow fingers through Simon’s dark hair, scratching and massaging at his scalp while Simon melts against him. The sensation of his hands in Simon’s hair is already becoming familiar to Kieren, something safe and acceptable – the logical way to start. Gradually he manoeuvres Simon until his head rests on Kieren’s thigh, nuzzling against the fabric briefly as he settles in. Kieren tugs loosely on his hair, startling a little, pleased noise out of Simon.

“That good?” Kieren asks. Simon groans out a ‘yeah’, followed by a low noise when Kieren gives a firmer pull. It was a stupid question, but Kieren asks anyway, because if this is something they’re doing he needs to get into the habit of making sure.

“Could we… do more?” Simon says quietly, low enough so that Kieren could pretend he hadn’t heard it. Smiling, Kieren presses his lips to the top of Simon’s head. His hair smells like Amy’s green apple shampoo.

“Did you have anything in mind?” He asks, because he may be in charge, but this is new to him, new to their relationship. It’s important to make sure Simon knows that what he wants is just as important as what Kieren wants.

“It’s up to you.”

“Yes, it is.” Simon shudders finely under Kieren’s hands at the steady acknowledgement, “But I still want to know what you want.” Simon’s quiet for a while, Kieren unsure if he’s hesitating or just deciding.

“Maybe edging?” He says eventually, voice purposely devoid of tone, but Kieren feels quietly relieved. Edging he can manage – it’s not so complicated that he needs to read a manual in order to keep it safe (rope bondage is a very complicated business, Kieren’s research had revealed). “Not too intense, I don’t like the feeling after a while.” Kieren remembers how ‘Denial’ had fallen into the ‘no’ column on his sheet. “But just, you know, take your time.” Despite Simon’s efforts, Kieren can hear an edge of reservation in his voice, and the implications irk him. That Simon thinks he might be denied, though technically Kieren has the power to, speaks volumes about what he may have dealt with in the past. Still, Kieren knows that now is not the time to question it.

“Sounds good to me.” He responds, trailing his hands down from Simon’s hair and along the sides of his neck. Simon flinches minutely, but the happy noise that follows and a muttered ‘sensitive neck’ explain the reaction. From this angle Kieren can run one hand down Simon’s chest and along his stomach while the other rests at the side of his neck, tracing little patterns there with his fingertips. His hand comes to Simon’s hip, wandering closer to his crotch before redirecting and skimming down his jean-clad thigh. Simon’s hips shift minutely as Kieren repeats the motion, hand wandering further in until it’s trailing feather-light over the inner seam of Simon’s jeans.

There seems to be some sort of alien invasion now on the tv screen, but neither of them take real notice, despite Simon’s attempts to appear unaffected by Kieren’s slow teasing. His trousers are very obviously tented, the denim straining a little more every time Kieren skims his hand past and down Simon’s thigh. It’s not until Simon starts making tiny aborted movements of his hips that Kieren relents, pressing his palm to the bulge in Simon’s jeans. Simon’s hips jerk instinctively, a harsh breath rushing from his lungs as he seeks more friction, but Kieren lifts his hand quickly. The fingers Kieren has on the side of Simon’s neck tighten just a little.

“Hold still.” The instruction is simple, backed up by Kieren’s fingertips ghosting over Simon’s adam's apple. It’s not a threat, not by a long shot, but it makes Simon’s breath hitch and his hips drop, recognising the undertone of authority in Kieren’s voice. The immediacy of his reaction sends a heady rush of arousal through Kieren, making him even more intent on giving Simon what he asked for. Slowly he presses his hand back to Simon’s crotch, squeezing firmly through the thick denim before loosening to a barely-there press of fingers. Admittedly the whole task would be easier if Simon was wearing track pants, but Kieren genuinely doubts he owns a pair, so he makes do with cupping a hand around the shape of Simon’s cock and giving him a few short, sharp strokes. He’s nowhere near coming, Kieren knows that, but the second Simon’s hips twitch even the slightest his hand is gone, leaving Simon to grunt his frustration.

“We’re not even started and you’re already complaining.” Kieren says mildly, ignoring the growing erection in his own trousers. Simon doesn’t say anything, but he does move his head so that Kieren’s hand presses a little harder to his throat. Kieren considers, for a moment. “Not tonight, I don’t think.” He says, running a fingertip along the line of Simon’s neck and absently wondering if moving to the bedroom is worth it. There’s lube there, he rationalises, and if he plans to keep Simon on edge for a while chafing is the last thing they want. But lube is messy. They’ll have to put down towels, Kieren thinks, because getting it on Amy’s grandmother’s bedspread is a bit weird.

Suddenly an idea hits him.

“Get up.” He tells Simon, dislodging him as he stands. For a moment Simon looks confused and a bit put out, but he rises nonetheless, letting Kieren take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. The dark tiles shine dully when Kieren flicks the light on, but the old-fashioned porcelain bathtub sparkles. Simon, when Kieren glances at him, looks interested to say the least.

“Shut the door.” Simon does as he’s told while Kieren turns to the bath, twisting the old iron taps until steaming water begins to rush from the faucet. Behind him Simon is quiet, and Kieren looks around to see him slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t ask you to undress.”

The response is instant, Simon’s fingers freezing on the third button and wide eyes flicking up to Kieren’s. His pupils are dilated, but there’s a hint of anxiety in the white of his irises.

“Sorry.” Simon mutters when Kieren moves closer, his hands coming up to push Simon’s away.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing to apologise for. I just want to do it myself.” The assurance is welcome, the tense line of Simon’s shoulders relaxing as Kieren begins work on the remaining buttons. While he slips Simon’s shirt from his shoulders he makes sure to hold the fabric away from the centre of Simon’s back. The scar isn’t painful, Simon had said so the first time Kieren saw it, but he can’t stand soft touches against it, flinches away from the brush of fingertips or the lightness of fabrics. It reminded him too much of tiny instruments and probing fingers, Simon had confessed after a particularly violent nightmare.

“It’s been a while since I...” Simon trails off as Kieren unzips his jeans, pushing them down Simon’s lean thighs. He doesn’t sound self-conscious or worried, more like he wants to prove himself, like he wants to do well. Kieren goes to his knees and presses a kiss to Simon’s hip.

“Since you subbed? It’s okay, you know I’ve never done this before so we’ll work out what we both like. Now lift your foot.” Simon does, letting Kieren remove his jeans and then his plain boxers and socks. He seems comfortable in his nudity, though the lean musculature of his chest and arms certainly wouldn’t make it difficult Kieren thinks. The dark hair on his chest trails down in a line to his navel, where it widens into the thick curls at the base of his erect, purple-flushed cock.

Kieren very much likes Simon naked. Smiling, he runs hands up and around Simon’s calves to grip lightly at the back of his thighs before tonguing lightly at the head of Simon’s cock. Simon’s hips quiver, but he holds back, biting his lip.

“Good.” Kieren says, rewarding Simon with tiny kitten licks over his slit. It’s tempting to add ‘boy’ to the praise, but he remembers Simon’s aversion to name-calling, and would rather clear it with him first. Regardless, the comment seems to please Simon, a happy moan slipping out when Kieren runs his tongue firmly along the underside of his cock. Around them the bathroom is beginning to steam up while hot water fills the bath, but Kieren ignores it for the time being, intent on getting Simon worked up before he has to shut off the taps. “What’s your colour?” He asks, and though Simon seems confused for a moment, he’s quick to stammer out a ‘green’.

Taking a firmer grip on the back of Simon’s thighs, Kieren sucks just the head of his cock into his mouth, tonguing at the slit while Simon gasps. Hands coming down to rest on Kieren’s shoulders, Simon’s fingers dig in just a little when Kieren hollows his cheeks and teases his frenulum. Slowly he takes more in, swirling his tongue as he tries to relax his throat, sinking down on Simon’s cock. Whenever Simon’s hips twitch even the slightest Kieren pulls back, moving until he has just the head between his lips, teasing Simon with tiny flicks of his tongue and making Simon pant out unhappy noises.

When Simon’s thighs begin to tense up Kieren abandons his cock, leaning down instead to lick broad stripes over his balls. Simon’s breath shudders, but Kieren merely sucks at the soft skin, alternating from one side to the other until the noises Simon makes begin to grow desperate. Then Kieren pulls off completely, laying an open-mouthed kiss to Simon’s hip before standing and moving away. Simon whines.

Going over to the bath, Kieren dips his fingers into the hot water before twisting off the taps, listening to Simon’s harsh breathing as he does so. When he turns around Simon looks perfect; cock hard and flushed, arms tense at his side and lips swollen from biting. _God_ , Kieren thinks, _he already looks desperate_. Simon’s watching him hungrily, waiting for some sort of instruction. Motioning for him to come closer, Kieren waits until Simon is standing right in front of him before taking him in hand, making a tight fist around his cock. He jerks Simon quickly, the pleasure obvious in Simon’s face and the way he grips at Kieren’s arms, fingers digging in. Kieren just pushes his other hand into Simon’s hair, jerks him hard and fast until Simon’s hands tremble and he’s unable to keep his hips from pushing into the touch.

“Kieren,” Simon warns on the end of a moan. Immediately Kieren’s hand is gone, leaving Simon to thrust into empty air while he makes low, needy sounds in the back of his throat. It’s incredibly hot, the way Simon is already so debauched, making Kieren acutely aware of his own neglected erection, which he continues to ignore. Instead he rubs soothing circles against Simon’s sternum, his other hand still fisted lightly in Simon’s hair.

“You’re doing good, Simon. You could have come just now, couldn’t you?” Simon nods, eyes shut and lips wet while he pants softly, but there’s something else in the way his hips jerk a little. Kieren goes on a hunch. “You were so good warning me. So good.” And there it is, a tightening of Simon’s hands on Kieren’s arms that makes him certain.

Simon Monroe has a praise kink.

The realisation is both obvious and a shock. Considering Simon’s personality, his tendency to seek approval, it’s not surprising that he’d relish praise for his submission. What is shocking, Kieren thinks, is that Simon himself never mentioned it, which means he probably hasn’t realised it. Kieren decides not to dwell on it now, not when Simon’s hands are slowly loosening on his arms, his eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“Are you ready to keep going?” Kieren asks. Simon nods, getting out a hoarse ‘yeah’ when Kieren waits for more. “Good.” Smiling, Kieren moves in for a kiss, licking into Simon’s mouth and biting at his lips. It takes Simon a few seconds to catch up, already a little out of it, but then he’s kissing back eagerly, chasing Kieren’s lips when he pulls away. “Into the tub.” Kieren instructs, taking Simon’s hand to help him climb into the bath. Once Simon’s settled in the steaming water Kieren strips quickly, discarding his clothes in a pile with Simon’s before clambering into the tub behind him.

The bath is large, but it takes a moment of rearranging before they can both sit comfortably, Simon between Kieren’s slender legs, his back to Kieren’s chest. They’ve sat in similar positions before, on the couch or in bed, and Kieren knows the solid pressure of his sternum against Simon’s scar causes him no anxiety. For a moment they just sit, Kieren running his hands up Simon’s chest and down his arms, fingertips ghosting over blackened track marks. He can’t hold back for long though, hands soon dipping under the water to Simon’s cock, one gripping the base while he teases the head with the other.

Simon’s head falls back onto Kieren’s shoulder, hair a little damp from the heavy steam filling the tiny bathroom. He can’t keep his hips from moving now, but Kieren doesn’t expect him to, letting Simon push up into the tight pressure of his hand. It’s not long before he’s making pained, eager noises by Kieren’s ear, cock twitching in Kieren’s grasp.

So Kieren lets go and moves his hands to rub at Simon’s inner thighs.

“You’re doing so well for me, Simon. God, you’re so hard.” He murmurs against Simon’s neck, peppering it with kisses. “Can you keep going for me?” A frantic nod is the only response Kieren gets, but he waits a few more minutes, giving Simon time to breathe. When Simon’s chest is no longer rising and falling so rapidly Kieren moves his hands down again, cupping and rolling Simon’s balls before wrapping a hand loosely around his cock. They can’t feel the heat of the water, but the steam rising from it makes everything feel hotter, more intense. Simon’s hands have moved to grip the sides of the bath, knuckles going white while Kieren teases him with the lightest of strokes.

Within minutes Simon’s trembling, thighs tense and hips jerking restlessly while Kieren refuses to give him the pressure he so desperately craves. The movement of Simon’s hips also serves to grind his ass back against Kieren’s cock where it’s trapped between their bodies, though Kieren’s groans are lost among Simon’s. When Kieren feels Simon’s balls start to tighten, he lets go again, bringing his hands up to press against Simon’s chest. A high, desperate noise slips from Simon’s lips, followed by hitching whimpers when Kieren rubs lightly at his nipples.

“Please,” he begs, voice rough, “Please, _please_ , I can’t-”

“You’re being so good, Simon.” Kieren soothes even as he pinches Simon’s nipples, earning him another whine, “You’re so hot like this. Can you do just one more? You don’t have to, you could come right now if you’d like.” As he talks he lifts a hand from Simon’s chest, bringing it up to run wet fingers through his hair reassuringly. “But I know you can keep going, Simon, you’ve done so well for me already.”

For a long time Simon says nothing, just pants heavily by Kieren’s ear and arches helplessly into the fingers tweaking his nipple. Kieren waits patiently, ignoring his own throbbing erection pressed to Simon’s ass, until Simon responds.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Kieren uses the hand in Simon’s hair to tilt his head, craning his own neck around to kiss Simon hotly. He keeps kissing Simon as he slips his hand back down to pump his straining cock in slow, firm strokes. Simon keens into his mouth, body shuddering against Kieren’s, but he doesn’t try to pull away. Now Kieren’s pulling out all the stops, alternating between fast and slow strokes, squeezing Simon’s balls lightly and rubbing just a thumb over his slit. Only when Simon’s been reduced to gasps and hitched moans does Kieren break the kiss, looking down at the dark purple head of Simon’s cock throbbing in his grip.

“Don’t come, just a little more.” He whispers into Simon’s ear, noting the whiteness of Simon’s knuckles where he’s gripping the rim of the bathtub. The noises he has begun to make are obscene, and paired with the way his hips are jerking helplessly Kieren can’t ignore his own arousal any longer. The hand that had been carding through Simon’s damp hair moves down to grip his hip, pressing him back firmly so that Kieren can rut against the curve of his ass. Simon cries out, cock twitching, but Kieren feels it and squeezes hard at the base, staving off Simon’s orgasm and making him shudder and whine. The reaction only gets Kieren more worked up, and he feels his own climax approaching rapidly.

“Oh, Simon. You’re so good,” Kieren pants against Simon’s neck, thrusting harder against his ass, the hand at his hip urging him back. “Once I’m done you can come, okay? You’re doing so, so well for me.” A stream of desperate noises fall from Simon’s lips, but he begins to rut back into Kieren’s touch, and that’s all it takes to have Kieren coming, gasping out expletives as his cock pulses between them. His orgasm makes him inadvertently squeeze tighter at the base of Simon’s cock, drawing a loud cry from him, at which Kieren immediately lets go.

“Please, Kieren.” Simon is gasping as Kieren’s final aftershocks shudder through him, “Please, I need to- _please_.” Kieren hushes him even as his own body is going lax, rubs his palms up and down Simon’s thighs.

“It’s okay, you’ve done so well. You can come now, I’ve got you.” Kieren doesn’t miss the way Simon’s body is trembling in the water, forearms straining with how hard he’s gripping the side of the tub. It would be cruel to drag this out any longer. Instead Kieren presses his left hand to Simon’s sternum, steadying him as he takes his painfully hard cock in the other hand, stroking him quickly. Muffled whines and gasps echo off the tiles while Simon bites his lip, but Kieren talks him through it, murmuring about _how good he’s been, how beautiful he is, how he’s done so, so well_.

Simon cries out when he comes, gasping and whimpering as his whole body shakes, hips jerking wildly. Water sloshes over the edge of the bath and onto the tiled floor, but Kieren just keeps a hand pressed to Simon’s chest and strokes him through it, kissing his neck and whispering encouragement. He pumps Simon slowly until the final aftershocks shudder through him and he begins to make soft, pained noises, hips twitching away.

“God, Simon, that was so good.” Kieren says gently, running wet hands along Simon’s tense arms to coax his hands off the rim off the bathtub. “You were wonderful.”

Simon’s chest is heaving, his breathing ragged, so Kieren just slips them down lower into the water, submerging their hands so that he can massage Simon’s stiff fingers. It’s unclear how long they stay like that, Simon’s body going lax while Kieren rubs at his arms and thighs, working out any lingering tension. All the while Kieren murmurs gentle praise, happy to wait as long as it takes for Simon to come down from subspace. When he eventually does it’s with a long, shuddering exhale and his fingers twining loosely with Kieren’s.

“You back?” Kieren asks softly, rubbing his thumb against the back of Simon’s hand.

“Yeah.” Simon’s voice is hoarse, but he sounds relaxed and content. “That was… you’re amazing.” It’s not exactly what Kieren expected, and he’s thrown.

“What do you mean?” Simon shrugs a little, sinks further into the arm Kieren has wrapped around him.

“You just- you know what you’re doing.” he says slowly “I needed that.” Kieren can’t deny the thrill of pride that goes through him, half of it from the praise and the other half from pleasing Simon.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” He replies, and Simon hums.

The water must have cooled around them, steam no longer rising from its surface and a good deal of it splashed onto the floor, but it doesn’t matter. Kieren takes the time to wash them both, forgoing Simon’s generic, home brand soap in favour of some of Amy’s expensive body wash. He’ll happily pay her back, if only for the way Simon goes loose and pliant when Kieren works the sweet-smelling gel into his skin, avoiding the open scar on his back. After washing himself quickly with Simon’s own soap, Kieren gently guides them out of the bath, trying to avoid the substantial puddle on the floor.

There are two clean towels on the vanity, laid out by Amy no doubt, and Kieren wraps one around Simon before taking the other for himself. By this point Simon’s pretty well out of subspace, his eyes clear and movements languid, but he happily lets Kieren towel his hair dry before they mop up the mess on the floor with their towels. Unplugging the bath, Kieren leaves the wet towels on the floor and leads the way to Simon’s bedroom, slipping on a pair of Simon’s boxers before crawling into bed. Simon watches from the foot of the bed, just a hint of hunger in his eyes at the way Kieren shares his clothes without a second thought, before doing the same.

They curl up together, Simon on his side while Kieren snuggles in close behind him, one possessive hand tracing absently over Simon’s stomach.

“You all good?” Kieren asks, Simon’s exhaustion clear in the slow way he moves his hand up to lay it over Kieren’s on his stomach.

“Yeah.” He responds, voice already thick with weariness, “Yeah, really good.” Kieren hums happily, then pushes himself up to kiss Simon sweetly before nestling closer.

“Night.” He whispers, but Simon’s already asleep.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the weekend passes as anyone would expect; with lots of kissing, lying around and sex.

Simon has no nightmares that night and they wake up around ten in the morning only to stay in bed until early afternoon They kiss for hours, exploring each other’s bodies with gentle hands, the fire of the previous night giving way to something softer. Eventually Kieren slips a hand down Simon’s boxers, palming him to hardness while he sucks a kiss to his throat. They end up rutting together, pants pushed down to their thighs while Kieren urges Simon’s hips against his with a firm grip on his ass. All the while Kieren sucks and bites at Simon’s neck, earning him pleased noises until he slips a finger down to stroke teasingly over Simon’s hole and Simon comes, sudden and hard. Kieren follows not long after, Simon’s hands cupping his face as they kiss.

Mostly, however, they just lie together, huddled under the blankets for comfort rather than warmth, and talk. At first it’s fairly ordinary; Simon asking about Kieren’s family, what Jem’s plans are for when she leaves school (because despite every conflicting circumstance he’s actually quietly fond of her) and what he should do about Sue’s near constant invitations to dinner.

Over time, however, their conversation strays to their old lives. To Kieren’s school, the friends he didn’t have and the music he used to listen to, his old posters now covering Jem’s walls. To Simon’s trip to America, or when his mum took him to see The Smiths, and the first time heroin burned through his veins, Kieren’s fingers now tracing the marks it left.

They talk about Bill and Rick Macy. About an overdose in a London back alley and a Swiss army knife.

That night they actually get to watching a few movies, curled together on the couch with Simon’s head in Kieren’s lap again. They alternate choosing, Kieren’s first pick a new foreign film about a blind boy, after which Simon insists on watching the first Alien movie simply because Kieren hasn’t seen it.

“Ellen Ripley, one of the only women I’ve ever loved.” Simon quips as the credits roll, Kieren already crouched by the stack of DVDs. He turns, looking back at where Simon is stretched out on the couch, legs hanging off one end.

“I thought- you’re into girls too?” It’s inquisitive, but Simon looks uncomfortable, like he’s been caught out.

“Not in so many words.”

Kieren doesn’t understand. He personally doesn’t care what gender a person is or isn’t, but he’s still confused, unsure of what Simon means. Simon’s mouth opens and closes a bit before he turns to stare up at the ceiling. “I mean, I’ve loved women, but that was it. Just love, nothing sexual. I just… don’t really feel that for them.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Kieren says mildly, because _biromantic_ might be a bit much for Simon right now, considering the way he’s unravelling the stitching at the hem of his jumper. Swapping out the Alien disc for a new one, Kieren notices the minute trembling of his own fingers, a tremor that’s been turning up more and more of late. He shakes his hand sharply until it subsides.

“What about you?” Over the sound of the DVD menu music Kieren almost doesn’t catch it.

“I like everyone.” He replies, Simon sitting up so that Kieren can retake his seat on the couch. Within a second of settling down Simon’s head is back against his legs, looking up as Kieren hits the play button. Glancing down Kieren smiles. “I think like you the best though.” He teases, but threads his fingers through Simon’s hair all the same.

That night Kieren has Simon hold the headboard while he fucks him torturously slow. He licks Simon open first, rims him until he’s begging for fingers, cock, _anything, please_. Eventually Kieren relents, fingers him slowly and thoroughly, knowing from the sounds that Simon is making that he could come from just this, just three fingers moving in and out of his slicked hole. But that’s not what Kieren wants, not tonight, so he slows down until he’s barely moving at all, fingers inching in and out so minutely that Simon almost growls with frustration. It earns him a sharp slap to the inside of his thigh, and despite the lack of pain, Simon shudders bodily and goes silent. When Kieren can’t resist any longer he pulls his fingers free, hushing Simon’s disappointed noise with praise and instruction to get on his back. Wiping his fingers on the sheets (because fuck towels, they aren’t sexy at all), he takes Simon’s hands in his and wraps them around the lowest bar of the wooden headboard.

“Colour?” Kieren asks, running soothing hands down Simon’s arms. He won’t restrain Simon, won’t hold him down and certainly won’t tie him up, but if Simon is willing to restrain himself…

Simon’s white eyes flutter shut and he gasps a ‘green’ that almost sounds relieved.

Kieren fucks him as slow as he can physically handle, drawing out until only the head of his cock remains inside Simon before pushing back in just as unhurried. The muscles in Simon’s arms flex and shake from how tight he grips the headboard, but Kieren just presses kisses to his triceps and tells him how well he’s doing. One of Simon’s legs is hitched around Kieren’s waist, a heel at the small of his back constantly urging him faster, harder, please. Kieren allows it, runs a hand up Simon’s thigh to grip his ass, pushing every thrust deeper until he’s rubbing up against Simon’s prostate. Despite the pace they’re hungry for each other, so when Simon asks for more Kieren touches him, a hand tight and slow around his cock. Simon comes soon after, gasping and shaking while his body clenches around Kieren, who fucks him leisurely through it.

As Simon comes down, body still shivering with aftershocks, Kieren finally picks up his pace, increasing it until he’s thrusting rapidly into Simon’s over sensitised body. Simon doesn’t get hard again, can’t so soon, but Kieren keeps up constant pressure on his prostate, pushing in hard and deep until Simon’s whimpering through a second orgasm. Every muscle in his body spasms, and the feeling is so tight, so perfect around Kieren’s cock that it has him coming in seconds.

They stay like that, panting against each other for long minutes until Kieren’s softening cock slips from Simon’s body, making him grunt in discomfort. Kieren kisses him for a while, enjoying the way Simon’s legs still cradle his hips, before heading to the bathroom for a wet cloth. He cleans them both up, only a small amount of lube to be wiped away, then returns the cloth to the growing pile of laundry in one corner of the bathroom.

It’s not until Kieren returns to Simon’s room that he realises Simon’s hands are still above his head, loosely clinging to the headboard. He hadn’t gone as far into subspace this time, but Kieren praises him quietly while drawing his arms down and massaging feeling back into them. Simon gazes up at him, and when they lie down to sleep it’s Simon who wraps Kieren in his arms, Kieren’s head tucking perfectly under his chin.

On Sunday they rise to the sound of rain and a phone ringing. Unfortunately Simon grumbles and curls closer to Kieren, so the phone goes unanswered in favour of sleepy kisses. Amy isn’t due home until late afternoon, but eventually Kieren wriggles out of Simon’s grasp, much to Simon’s displeasure.

“We have a pile of wet towels and dirty clothes on Amy’s bathroom floor, I have to clean up.” Kieren laughs when Simon won’t let go of his ankle.

“Do it later, come back to bed.” Voice is still slurred with sleep, Simon’s eyes bleary and hair an absolute mess. Kieren finds himself smiling fondly, leaning down to lay a kiss on Simon’s forehead.

“Go back to sleep.”

Simon grumbles but lets him go, allowing Kieren to pull on a pair of boxers and the shirt Simon had discarded on the floor the previous night. He heads into the bathroom, collecting the pile of damp clothes and towel and carrying them to the washing machine, quietly grateful Amy had left dark towels (Kieren inherited his father’s habit of mixing colours and staining things). Wandering past Simon’s room he notices the dark head of hair has moved, now pressed into Kieren’s pillow, the blankets rising and falling as Simon breathes.

The day passes quietly, Kieren sketching Simon until he wakes up. Kieren has no doubt that if they could still blush Simon would have. As it is Simon looks like a perfect study in contrasts, dark hair and half-lidded white eyes begging Kieren to immortalise them in graphite and ink. He makes a mental note to buy new paints.

They’re folding the clean towels to the sound of thunder outside when Amy and Phillip turn up early, Amy insisting she had called ahead, but assumed they were _otherwise occupied_ when no one picked up. She’s dripping wet and laughing, wrapping them in sodden hugs while Phillip trails behind her like a besotted but very damp puppy.

“London was so much fun!” Amy says after she’s dumped her wet coat on the laundry floor, wringing her hair out while she saunters into the living room. “There were so many cool shops and historical stuff, and Phillip knew where all those great little antique places were.” Phillip flushes, smiling at the floor until Amy gestures for him to sit by her on the couch. Simon’s in his armchair, Kieren perched on one of the arms. “Oh, and last night he surprised me with a midnight ghost tour around the city. It was so spooky, wasn’t it? This one held my hand the whole time, scaredy cat.” She softens the quip with a kiss to Phillip’s cheek, and Kieren can’t help but laugh when Phillip gets impossibly redder.

“Late nights explain the dark circles.” Simon says mildly, gesturing to their happy but tired faces.

“Oh yeah,” Amy replies “That and the sex.”

Phillip makes a strange gurgling sound, Amy laughing and patting his back while Simon looks vaguely alarmed. Then Amy’s standing up, crossing the room to snatch a large plastic bag from the hallway.

“Right, present time!” She exclaims, rummaging in the bag as she comes to stand in front of Kieren. “This is for you, Kieren Walker.” He’s handed a heavy book, a hardback collection of post-impressionist artworks. “It has some Van Gogh, who I know you really like, but you should also check out Toulouse Lautrec, his stuff is so pretty.”

Kieren’s at a loss, staring down at the cover in awe, fingers skimming the close up of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “Thanks, Amy.” It doesn’t begin to cover how much the book means – he hasn’t really talked art with Amy before, but somehow she knew, like she always knows. She grins and pulls him into another hug.

“Now you have no excuse not to paint me. I can be your muse.” Kieren tries not to think of the last drawing he did of Amy, the way it had fluttered down, stark white against her coffin.

“And you, Mr Monroe.” Simon’s eyes flick up, eyebrows raised. He looks almost surprised, and Kieren sees the way Amy’s brow creases, feels himself mirror it. “I wasn’t really sure at first, but I figured you and the beau should having matching gifts, so here you go.” She passes him a book too, smaller than Kieren’s and well worn, the aging cover a little frayed. Simon frowns, flicking it open and making a sharp, shocked noise. He gazes up at Amy, who’s biting her lip to hold back a smile.

“First edition T.S. Elliot? Jesus, Amy, this had to be expensive-”

“Nope! We found it in this tiny little used bookstore, way up the back and the lady running the place – sweet old thing – she said, and I quote,” She clears her throat, putting on what Kieren could only assume was her ‘old lady’ voice; “’For a darling like you, only forty quid’.  _Bargain!_ ” Over on the couch Phillip is nodding. Amy plops herself down on Simon’s lap, the weight of the three of them making the armchair creak. “Say you like it?”

“Amy, I love it. Thank you.” Simon’s cradling the book to his chest, and Amy wraps an arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek before hopping up again.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure it’s non-refundable.”

Later she offers to walk Kieren home, insisting on giving Jem her present as soon as possible. They walk via Phillip’s house, Kieren taking particular interest in Shirley’s wilted snapdragons while Amy kisses Phillip goodbye for far longer than necessary. By the time they get to the Walker’s it’s almost six, meaning Sue’s quick to invite Amy to stay for tea.

“As much as I’d love to, I can feel Simon being forlorn from here. Best not leave him alone for too long or he’ll start writing sonnets.” Steve blinks owlishly at Amy from where he’s already seated at the table, but she just winks. At that moment Jem trudges down the stairs in thick bed socks and a scarf, sniffling grumpily while she mumbles about _‘fucking immune system bullshit’_. Clapping once in delight, Amy visibly restrains herself from hugging an already irritable Jem as she hands over the tiny black carry bag she’d brought from the bungalow.

“What’s this?” Jem asks, holding the bag between two fingers and peering at it suspiciously.

“Open it and find out, silly!” Jem’s eyebrows quirk up but she does as she’s instructed, clearly intrigued when she draws two small black tubes from the bag. Her eyes widen, but when she looks up Kieren can see a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Are these-”

“MAC? Yeah, I didn’t know which colour would look better so I got you both. Plus they were on special, so I figured why not splurge?” Even as Amy talks Jem is uncapping the tubes, revealing the plum and deep red lipsticks.

“Thanks.” Jem says, a little hesitant, and she’s still blushing when Amy heads home five minutes later. Kieren calls her on it as they sit down for dinner, earning him a wicked glare despite the way her cheeks burn darker. Then Jem’s eyes narrow, a smirk spreading across her face.

“Nice shirt, Kier.”

Sue, Steve and Kieren all look down in unison, taking in the loose grey t-shirt that hangs off his thin frame. Fond amusement shines in Sue’s eyes as Kieren fumbles to wrench his hoodie zipper up, Steve frowning suspiciously at the overlarge shirt.

Kieren is immensely glad that he can’t blush anymore, but he kicks Jem under the table for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and critiques are both welcome and encouraged, so let me know what you want to see more of in the future. The next update should be in a week's time!
> 
> Also, for those who have asked: I personally headcanon Simon as biromantic and homosexual. So while he forms romantic attachments to both people of the same and other genders, he only feels sexual attraction to people of the same gender. Feel free to ignore that if you want, as it's not going to play a major role in this fic :)


	3. Chapter 3

Kieren doesn’t get much time alone with Simon over the following weeks.

They spend a handful of afternoons together, usually while Amy’s with the Wilsons, a trend that’s becoming more and more frequent of late. When Kieren does get time with Simon it’s spent reading and talking more often than not, and once Kieren takes Simon with him to visit Rick’s grave, Simon’s hand stiff in his. Every now and then, however, they’ll end up in Simon’s room, licking into each other’s mouths while Kieren murmurs suggestions of what to try next. They don’t have any toys, but one of Simon’s old ties makes a perfectly adequate blindfold. Still, their lists are generally Kieren’s go-to for ideas on what to suggest next, what to offer Simon.

Spanking is in Simon’s maybe category, and after Kieren thoroughly questions him on his limits, they decide to try it. Kieren stays fully dressed, Simon’s nude body draped over his knees, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down Simon’s thigh.

“What colour?” Kieren asks, trailing fingertips lightly over Simon’s ass.

“Green.” Comes the response, Simon’s voice breathy in anticipation. Running his left hand down the line of Simon’s back, keeping the pressure even over his scar to keep him centred, Kieren takes a firm grip of Simon’s hip to hold him down.

The first blow isn’t too hard, Simon barely making any noise, hips rocking forwards the slightest bit with the impact. The second is a little harder and Simon’s thighs tense, but there’s no other response. Gradually Kieren increases the pressure, hitting Simon’s pale flesh firmly, but it brings him neither satisfaction nor pleasure. He can feel Simon’s cock, half-hard against his thigh, but it’s not growing any harder, Simon’s hips not even trying to rut against the soft fabric of his track pants. After the sixth hit he stops, hand going tender again on the back of Simon’s thigh.

“Simon, I don’t think I’d like to keep doing this, okay?” Kieren keeps his voice soft, carding his other hand through Simon’s hair for the way it makes Simon relax against him. “We’ll talk about it later, but for now I’m going to go get the lube and I’d like you to ride me, if that’s okay with you.” Unsurprisingly Simon’s head bobs under his hand, a clear nod. “Colour?” Kieren asks, just to make sure.

“Green.”

An hour later Kieren is kneeling between Simon’s legs, massaging the sore muscles in Simon’s thighs that had been quivering by the time he’d finished riding Kieren. Further up the bed Simon stirs, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Kieren.

“About earlier,” He says, mostly out of subspace, Kieren noting the clarity of his white eyes and the even, measured way he speaks. Kieren keeps rubbing small circles into the crease of Simon’s thigh with his thumbs. “I’m sorry you didn’t like it.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Kieren replies, firm but kind. “I’m not really into the pain stuff, but I was happy to try it out. It just isn’t my thing, I guess.” Laying a light kiss to Simon’s inner thigh, Kieren crawls up the bed to sit propped against the headboard, letting Simon press up to his side. “More importantly though, did you like it? I wasn’t entirely sure you were into it when we were actually doing it.”

“Not… as much as I used to.”

“Because you can’t feel pain?”

“Maybe.” The answer throws Kieren a bit, and he peers down at Simon’s dark head pressed to his chest, waiting for more. “I think I got more from it when my dom made me think I deserved it. As punishment, usually.”

Kieren considers this for a while. On the one hand, he doesn’t like the implications of any dom ‘punishing’ Simon when he didn’t even have proper safewords, but at the same time, Kieren knows his own style of dominance may not necessarily be typical. Especially when the only thing he has to compare it to is porn.

“Is that something you want?” He asks, making sure his tone is even and without judgement. Simon shifts a little closer, laying a hand on Kieren’s chest.

“Not anymore, no.”

Simon stays close for a while after that, never straying far from Kieren as they dress and move into the living room. Amy had said she’d be at the Wilson’s until four, so Kieren settles in on the couch, knees tucked up and sketchpad open on the armrest. They often spend time like this, sitting together in affectionate silence while Kieren draws and Simon reads in his armchair. Sometimes he’ll sprawl out on the couch beside Kieren, but rarely without Kieren actually prompting him to. So Kieren’s a little surprised when Simon delicately takes his T.S. Elliot book from the coffee table and strides over to the couch. When the cushions don’t dip beside him Kieren looks up, wondering why Simon is-

Keeping Kieren’s gaze Simon lowers himself to the floor, kneeling just to the side of the couch.

They watch each other for a long time. A current of tension runs between them, because this is totally new and unexpected, Simon never having done something so submissive outside the bedroom before. Slowly Kieren lowers his legs, planting his feet on the ground without ever letting his eyes leave Simon’s.

“Come here?” Kieren asks gently, leaving more than enough room for Simon to refuse. He doesn’t, shuffling closer until he can press his shoulder to Kieren’s calf, back to the couch. Kieren threads a hand through Simon’s hair. “If you kneel for too long you’ll hurt your knees. You probably won’t feel it but I’d rather you don’t do any damage.” He murmurs, feeling Simon shift into a more comfortable position on the floor. Kieren smiles, drops a kiss to the top of Simon’s head and returns to sketching a portrait of Amy, flowers adorning her dark hair. He keeps his hand on Simon’s head, fingers brushing lightly behind his ear.

An indeterminable amount of time later Simon makes a small noise, Kieren leaning forward to see why. Simon must feel it, because he begins to read;

_“We have lingered in the chambers of the sea,_  
 _By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown,_  
 _‘Til human voices wake us, and we drown.”_

His accent is thick and lilting as he speaks, the poem made haunting by the soft, reverent way he recites it. Kieren runs a hand down his neck, tilting his head back for a gentle kiss.

“It’s beautiful.” Kieren says, but Simon just hums in response, pressing up for another kiss. Amy finds them like that when she arrives home and though her eyebrows arch she says nothing.

That is, until she finds Kieren in the cemetery a few days later.

The sky is uncharacteristically blue, dappled sunlight filtering through the trees surrounding the small graveyard and making the dewy grass glisten. Tiny wildflowers have started sprouting around the edges of the low brick wall, vibrant purples and reds brightening the otherwise dull landscape. Kieren’s crouched by Rick’s grave, a fresh white hyacinth laid on the grass in front of him while he sketches a bird perched on a nearby cross. Amy announces herself by dropping down in a flourish of skirts next to him.

“ _So._  Simon’s been in an awfully good mood of late.” She says, patting Kieren’s knee after adjusting her petticoat under her floral skirt, “All your doing, I might add.” Kieren flips his sketchpad shut.

“If you say so.”

“Don’t be silly, he’s totally smitten! But then again, with what I came home to the other day it’s no surprise.” Amy continues, “I never pegged you and Simon for the domestic type, to be honest. At least not so soon.” Thankfully she hadn’t read anything else into the way Simon had been curled at Kieren’s feet, and Kieren’s quietly thankful for it. He’s really not ready for that conversation and probably never will be.

“I mean, no offense but you’re not exactly the cuddliest undead boy in the world. Was he?” Amy adds, nodding to the white cross before them. Kieren laughs humourlessly.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You two weren’t the snuggling type, eh?”

“No. We, uh- we weren’t really anything.” The corners of Amy’s mouth curve down, but she hesitates before speaking again.

“Do you miss him?” She asks tentatively, thumb still rubbing gentle circles against Kieren’s knee. He doesn’t look at her.

“Of course. He was my best friend.”

“He was more than that.” The bluntness of it startles Kieren, but Amy doesn’t sound like she’s judging him, simply stating the facts. He lets out a long breath.

“Yeah. But lately…” Kieren trails off, because he really shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t tarnish the polished, ideal Rick he wants the world to remember. Amy though, beautiful, clever Amy, just sits by his side, one hand gentle on his knee, and waits.

“I loved Rick.” Kieren begins, “But, I don’t know, being with Simon’s so different. And I think that it’s kind of making me realise that loving Rick wasn’t really all that... well, good for me.” The face Amy makes says she already knew that, but she doesn’t interrupt. “I think he did love me too, in his own way, but he was so hell bent on fitting the mould Bill had made for him that he never really let himself.” Kieren can’t help it; he feels that familiar old rage building in him, doesn’t even try to keep it out of his voice. “Maybe if we were older, out of Roarton and somewhere where we didn’t have to hide it could have worked. But that’s not how it was, and loving Rick so blindly…” Kieren toys at the cuffs of his hoodie, hyperaware of the gashes on his wrists under them “Well… we know how that ended.”

Saying it out loud is a kind of terrible relief. For all he had loved Rick, it was only now that Kieren could actually see how little that love had given him, in the long run. Sure, they’d had a few stolen moments – kisses when Rick was too drunk to remember and furtive, one-sided handjobs in the cave – but that’s just what they were; stolen. Kieren’s love for Rick was never something that Rick could keep, could nurture and let grow. It was something to be stifled, hidden away in dark rooms and darker stone where his father, the world, would never see.

Kieren had loved Rick Macy, but it was a love Rick never really allowed.

“Not all loves are healthy.” Amy says softly, taking Kieren’s hand in hers. She turns it palm-up and begins tracing the line from Kieren’s thumb to his wrist. “Being able to know the difference between the good and the bad is important.”

“What rom-com’s that from?” He teases, masking how close the words hit.

“The comedic tragedy that was my first life.” She laughs, then softer, eyes downcast, “Nothing romantic about boys romanticising the dying girl.”

Kieren gives her a half-smile, “What would I do without you, Amy Dyer?”

She squeezes his hand a little tighter, pinkie brushing his wrist, and smiles sadly. “Nothing drastic, I hope.” Above them the trees shift in the wind, light dancing across their faces and into their eyes.

An hour later they’re wandering back through town, Amy’s arm looped through Kieren’s while she points out various flower species in people’s backyards. Gran Dyer, it turns out, was quite fond of the language of flowers.

“Speaking of flowers,” Amy says after lengthily explaining the meanings of different coloured tulips, “You and Simon should go out this weekend.” Kieren doesn’t bother asking what his relationship with Simon has to do with flowers.

“Why is that?”

“Firstly because you like him, dum-dum.” She mocks, rolling her eyes, “And secondly because I don’t actually think you two have been on a real date. At all. Ever.” That gives Kieren pause, trying to figure out what constitutes a ‘real date’ when you and your zombie lover just kind of fell together after he took a bullet for you.

“He came to lunch with my family once?” Kieren tries.

Amy scoffs, turning them down the street that leads to the corner store. “Yeah, he told me about that. It doesn’t count.”

“Well it’s not like we can go out for dinner or anything. Even if we could, I’m not sure how people would deal with two undead guys kissing down at the Legion or something.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to the world than Roarton, take him on a day trip!” Kieren instinctively goes to protest, but hesitates and Amy’s grin broadens. She knows she’s won.

“I do need some new art supplies. The best stores are in the city-” He admits, but Amy’s already bouncing at his side. “I guess I could ask if Simon wants to come.”

“Of course he’ll want to go! A whole day to show off his moregous boyfriend in the city – I can’t think of anything he’d like more.” Kieren rolls his eyes at the title but doesn’t object. The idea of a day with Simon actually fills him with a quiet kind of excitement, a tiny smile quirking at his lips. Amy drags him to the bakery by the corner store, buying two cinnamon donuts (“Philip has such a sweet tooth.”) before steering him in the direction of the Wilson’s. He leaves her there, giving Phillip sugary kisses, and heads to the bungalow.

The house is empty when he arrives, Simon most likely out buying food because Amy keeps forgetting to restock the pantry for herself. Tearing a page from his sketchbook, Kieren scrawls a quick note asking if Simon wants to go to the city with him the following day. He slips it under the door before turning around and wandering home. The Walker house is quiet, Sue and Steve both at work, and he heads up to his room to change when he hears Jem’s voice filter weakly from her room.

Pushing the door open, Kieren’s met with the sight of Jem surrounded by tissues, laid out on her bed in only sleep shorts and a tank top. She’s been sick for almost two weeks and is just now getting to the end of it, feverish and pink-faced while she looks blearily at him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kieren deadpans, earning a snotty tissue tossed weakly in his direction.

“Come here, dickhead.” Jem grouches, shuffling over on her bed so that he can climb on next to her. She snuggles up close as he wraps his arms around her narrow frame. For the last few days Kieren has been her personal ice pack, his unnaturally cool skin providing relief from the fever, as well as comfort. Jem wriggles closer, pressing her sweaty brow to the cool skin of Kieren’s neck.

“Better?”

“You smell like donuts.” She sniffles, groping around for a relatively clean tissue. Kieren passes her one, almost missing the mumbled thanks before Jem’s blowing her nose violently. She tosses the tissue off the bed and onto the floor to join its brethren. “Does your zombie boyfriend like donut scented losers?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jem.” Kieren says immediately, because they haven’t really talked about labels or anything yet. Still, he can’t deny the little thrill that runs through him at the word. Jem leans back just far enough to ensure that he sees her roll her eyes before snuggling back into his cool arms.

“Kier, you came home the other week in his shirt after spending the weekend alone with him. He’s your boyfriend.” Another sniffle, then, “Besides, Amy said you two cuddle on her Gran’s couch.”

“How on earth did you find out about that?”

“She told me about it the other day when she came over for mum’s apple pie recipe. She spent twenty minutes annoying me until mum got home.” Jem shrugs, but Kieren can hear the hint of happiness in her tone. It’s been a long time since Jem had a friend, he realises, one who wasn’t bound to her by HVF loyalty or misplaced war honour. In fact, Kieren can’t remember the last time Jem actually had a female friend. He smiles – if there’s anyone he would want Jem to befriend, it’s Amy.

“I’m sure she loved you company, even if you dribbled snot everywhere.” That earns him a punch, but Jem’s smiling, he can feel her cheek against his neck. “What did your therapist say about violence? And being sick doesn’t get you a free pass, snotty.”

“Just you wait until you’re human again, you used to be sick all the time, weedy little shit.” The jab is without malice, but the way Jem phrases it - _human again_ \- stirs something in Kieren.

Sure, he’s been showing the signs that Amy had described – trembling hands and worsening nosebleeds – but what if she was a one-off? What if Kieren stays the way he is?

 _What_ , murmurs a tiny part of his mind, _if you want that?_

Is he not human now? No, he doesn’t eat, can’t feel water when it seeps through his socks in the bathroom, but he feels more acutely than he ever did in life. Feels the love for his family, finds joy in Amy’s smile. He carries the memory of Rick in his chest like a burden and a blessing. He feels things for Simon, feels affection and irritation and a desire to protect. So how is it that, despite all of these things that he never had in life, he is not human?

Jem must feel the tension in his limbs. She nestles closer, wrapping an arm around him. “It’ll be okay.” She says quietly, syllables warped by her stuffy nose. “You’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Kieren replies, then falls silent. The light filtering through Jem’s window begins to fade, clouds rolling in outside. Jem wriggles a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy silence between them.

“Oh,” She says suddenly, “Simon’s coming round for dinner on Sunday.”

_“What?”_

“Yeah, mum ambushed him this morning when she was leaving for work. He’s looked a bit terrified when she started talking to him, to be honest. It’s probably why he said yes.” She looks up at Kieren, smirking, “Y’know, that and the fact that he didn’t have you to protect him.”

“Shut up.” Kieren says mildly. It might be nice, he thinks, to have Simon over without even the slightest possibility of Gary turning up to be a massive fucking asshole. Gary had been unofficially banned from the house, but that was pretty irrelevant when he skipped town only a few weeks after the fete. Regardless, Kieren feels a swelling of hope in his chest at the thought of Simon at the table with his family, especially when Sue and Jem seem to have taken a liking to him. Steve is still on the fence, not quite sure about Kieren’s relationship, but also wary of Simon, regardless of the bullet wound in his back. Still, with the sheer amount of things that could potentially go wrong…

“Stop thinking so loud, it’ll be fine.” Jem says sleepily, already starting to doze at Kieren’s side. “I’ll make sure dad doesn’t make an idiot out of himself. Besides, it’s pretty hilarious to watch Simon do the whole starry-eyed thing at you.” Kieren goes to protest, but she silences him with a pat to the chest. “It’s cute, leave it.”

Simon calls a few hours later to agree to the city trip.

 

* * *

 

Kieren takes Simon into the city on Sunday. They decide that wearing coverup is the safest option, and Kieren notes that Simon’s looks a lot better than the first time he’d seen him in it.

“I, uh, got Amy to do it.” Simon concedes sheepishly when Kieren comments, the train rocking them closer on the small bench seat.

“You look good.” Kieren grins and kisses him, linking their fingers together. He keeps Simon’s hand in his when they arrive at their stop, Simon trailing a little behind before his fingers tighten in Kieren’s.

Their first stop is an art supply store Kieren frequented when he was alive, having sampled every watercolour, acrylic, pastel and charcoal the stock had on offer. For the most part Simon tries to look interested, following Kieren from one aisle to the next and watching him inspect different papers and canvases. When Kieren spends a solid fifteen minutes testing brushes, however, Simon grows impatient, leaning heavily against the wall beside him and huffing out a breath. Kieren arches a brow, glancing up from the angled brush in his hands.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you can take so long comparing identical brushes.” Simon says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

“You’ll smudge the coverup if you keep doing that.” Kieren chastises quietly, picking up two fine brushes from the display in front of him. One is cheap, synthetic bristles sticking out at odd angles, the other a high-quality one made of Kolinsky sable. “And they’re not identical at all.”

Simon, who had been dropping his hand from his neck, looks up when Kieren takes it gently, pushing back the sleeve of his thick jumper to reveal his stark white wrist. The coverup doesn’t come up this far, and Kieren rubs his thumb over Simon’s blackened veins before running the first brush over his skin.

“That one’s synthetic.” He says, “It’d work, but you’d have a lot of bristles falling out or pointing off in the wrong direction.” He swaps it for the Kolinsky brush, tracing tiny patterns over Simon’s wrist with the soft hairs. “But this one’s sable. A thousand times smoother, plus it looks pretty.” Kieren explains, loving the way the dark tips of the brush contrast against Simon’s pale arm. He can hear Simon’s soft breathing as he traces a small _‘K’_ on his wrist, hears the tiny noise that catches in Simon’s throat. Smiling, Kieren replaces the first brush and adds the second to the small pile of supplies tucked under his arm.

“They still look the same.” Simon mutters, but his voice wavers a little and his eyes are trained on Kieren’s hand around his wrist. Kieren rolls his eyes and heads off down the aisle of acrylic paints, Simon’s footsteps not far behind.

At the checkout he catches Simon with his fingers tucked under the sleeve of his jumper, fingers rubbing the place where Kieren’s initial had been.

They head over to a record store next, Kieren having just bought the new Fall Out Boy CD (old loyalties die hard) when he finds Simon crouched over a box of vinyls. The one in his hands has a fairly good quality sleeve depicting a lamp, refrigerator and vacuum sitting in front of a pink background. ‘The Cure’ is printed in tiny black letters in the top right corner.

“Mum loved them,” Simon says quietly, flipping the vinyl over to read the tracklist, “She sang ‘Fire In Cairo’ when she cleaned.”

Kieren hesitates; he knows next to nothing about Simon’s family. What little Simon does say about them is usually vague and without detail, so Kieren never pushes it, figures he’ll let Simon talk about them if and when he’s ready. Still, Kieren has noticed the way he only ever talks about his mother in past tense, has seen the crumpled photo of the two of them in Simon’s room. Kieren knows mourning when he sees it.

“Buy it.” He says, eyes trained on the delicate way Simon touches the sleeve, “Dad has an old record player out in the shed that still works, you can have it.”

“You sure?” Simon’s brows are quirked up when he looks at Kieren, but he smiles a little when Kieren nods, holding the record just a fraction tighter.

The leather-clad girl at the counter flicks her tongue ring at Simon while she rings up the vinyl, but he only looks at her to hand over twenty pounds. Kieren holds the door when they leave, and once they’re back out on the sunny city street Simon takes his hand lightly, fingers slipping between Kieren’s. It’s not the most overt display of affection, but it’s one of the first times Simon has actively sought such obvious romantic contact in public. His hand is smooth and dry in Kieren’s, the mousse applied thinly enough that Kieren can still feel the texture of his fingerprints, the lines on his palm. It’s comfortable, safe, and Kieren absently remembers what Amy had said the day before about healthy love. He squeezes Simon’s hand a little tighter.

After that they wander from store to store, Simon frequently drifting towards old bookstores and some of the places that still sell music. Kieren is happy to follow, asking about the books he picks up and the CDs he lingers on, always getting slightly surprised but detailed responses. It’s almost as if Simon’s forgotten how to talk about things that weren’t the ULA or the Undead Prophet, but the more he talks the looser he gets. In fact, he becomes nearly irritating in his knowledge, picking up books at random and explaining their history to Kieren, pronouncing German titles with ease and detailing the shared themes of iconic writers.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Kieren says, half way through Simon’s musings on the friendship between C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

“Bachelor of English Literature.” Simon shrugs, barely missing a beat as he plunges back into the symbolism of Treebeard. _Oh_ , Kieren thinks vaguely, _right. Simon has a degree. Because’s been to university. Because he’s 32._

Kieren suddenly feels very, very young.

“You’re such a nerd.” Kieren mutters, because sometimes he acts like a child when he feels like one. Simon pauses mid-sentence to blink at him slowly.

“Yeah,” Simon says, “But I’m not the one who bought a Fall Out Boy CD.” Scandalised, Kieren smacks his arm, but Simon grins and leans in until Kieren really has no choice but to kiss him. At least, that’s what Kieren tells himself as he grins into Simon’s lips.

It’s noisy and crowded on the main streets, so they stick to the alleyways and nook and cranny stores, both for the privacy and the lowered risk of someone brushing against them and feeling the chill of their skin. Coverup and contacts can only go so far. Still, the quieter streets seem to put Simon at ease, talking more easily and rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Kieren’s hand as they walk.

It’s in one of these back streets that Kieren notices a dark red door set into a black brick wall, a plain sign above it reading ‘Dionysus Adult Store’. He stops walking, staring at the door while Simon comes to a halt beside him. Simon hums inquisitively and Kieren turns to face him, their hands still linked.

“Do you… want to go in?” He asks lightly. “We don’t have to get anything, we can just look if you like.” For a minute Simon just stands there, eyes flicking from the red door to the sign above it and back. Eventually he nods.

“Sure.” Simon says, though Kieren suspects he hadn’t meant it to sound quite so hesitant.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want-” Kieren begins, but Simon’s already shaking his head and leading them off the sidewalk.

They cross the street and step up to the door, Simon holding it open so that Kieren can walk ahead up a dimly lit flight of stairs. It’s not exactly seedy, but Kieren doesn’t like the strange stains on the linoleum floor. Shortly he reaches a door with ‘Dionysus’ printed in cursive at eye level. He pushes it open and finds himself standing a surprisingly spacious, well-lit store with off-white walls and black wooden shelves forming wide aisles down the centre. He feels Simon follow him in, a reassuring presence at his back, and steps further into the room.

It’s honestly not what he expected a sex store to be. Where he had pictured red carpet, metal racks and mood lighting, the shop is tastefully simple, light colours giving off an professional air of cleanliness and calm. There are only a few other patrons inside; a group of three inspecting the wide array of nipple clamps on one side of the store, and a woman having a clerk help her unlace a corset over by the lingerie. It’s oddly normal, the atmosphere like any other shop he’s ever been in, and Kieren feels more than comfortable strolling over to the wall of ropes nearby. Simon follows him, head turning as he takes in the contents of the store, and he lingers at Kieren’s back for two aisles before muttering that he’ll be back and wandering away.

Kieren’s puzzling over vibrators when the clerk who had been serving the corseted woman comes over, flashing him a bright smile. A small badge pinned to the clerk’s shirt reads _‘They/Them Pronouns Please!’_ in bright purple letters.

“Hey, is there anything I can help you with?” They ask, slender hands clasped together in front of them.

“I’m not sure, actually. I’m kind of new to- well, to this.” Kieren says, gesturing vaguely.

“Sex stores or vibrators?”

“All of the above?” The clerk laughs at that, their bright blue hair falling prettily as they throw their head back.

“Okay, well I’m Rowan and I can help you out with just about anything you want.” They say, then, when Kieren looks at a loss, adding, “It’s probably best if you let me know what you were looking for or had in mind, then we have a basic starting point to work from.” Their easy smiles and casual tone relax him, and Kieren isn’t at all surprised that a sex store would hire someone so easy to talk to.

“I guess just basic toys? I mean, this whole dom/sub thing is pretty recent for us, so nothing too intense, but… maybe something simple.” Rowan nods as Kieren talks, grey eyes holding his.

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too _hard_.” They wink at the pun, and Kieren rolls his eyes but smiles all the same. “Do you mind me asking if you’re looking as a dom or sub? It’s perfectly fine if you’d prefer not to answer.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m a dom.” It feels a little strange, saying the words for the first time and to a stranger no less. But it also fills Kieren with a surge of pride, acknowledging to someone else that he has Simon’s trust in such an intimate way. _Speaking of Simon_ , Kieren thinks, looking around for him but only catching a glimpse of his dark hair over by the lingerie. He shrugs and turns back to Rowan.

“Okay, and have you and your sub discussed toys already? I’d prefer not to sell you anything you’re going to take home to a sub that doesn’t want it.” It’s said mildly, but Kieren understands the implications, hears the quiet warning in their tone. It puts him at ease, to know that Rowan is just as concerned about an unknown sub’s wellbeing as they are with the sale, and Kieren absently wonders if they dom too. He realises he hasn’t aid anything, Rowan gazing it him with raised black brows, and he hastens to reply.

“No, yeah, we’ve talked about it a bit, we did a list of boundaries and stuff and he’s happy with toys. But he’s in here somewhere, so he’ll have the final say on what we get.” This must be what Rowan had wanted to hear because they smile brightly again, the stud under their lower lip sparkling.

“Okay then, let’s see what we’ve got for you!”

Rowan spends the next twenty minutes leading Kieren through the aisles, first giving a brief rundown of what toys are available and what they can do before offering anything specific. Kieren quickly rules out sounds, pinwheels and other pain-related toys, thankful when Rowan doesn’t question it at all. Explaining that your sub can’t feel pain because he’s undead isn’t really something Kieren’s ready for. Instead Rowan moves on to the frankly impressive number of flavoured lubes on offer.

Simon meanders back while Rowan’s explaining the difference between a prostate stimulator and a regular vibrator, Kieren listening closely before offering the bullet vibrator in his hands to Simon for inspection. He flips it over, reading the back of the packaging before nodding and handing it back to Kieren. Rowan watches the exchange with a small smile, then leads them on to the cock rings.

“What do you think?” Kieren asks, indicating a leather ring to Simon. He frowns, and Rowan tactfully steps away to fix up a poorly stacked display. With Rowan out of earshot Simon takes a step closer, his fingers brushing the sleeve of Kieren’s hoodie.

“I know she-”

“They.” Kieren corrects gently. Simon frowns and glances back at Rowan over his shoulder. He must notice the badge because he nods when he turns back.

“I know they said that it’s good for edging, but I, uh… I think I prefer your hand.” He says it quietly, keeping the conversation private, but the way he focuses only as high as Kieren’s chin makes Kieren wonder what response Simon expects. It makes Kieren’s skin itch. He does his best not to speak too sharply when he replies.

“That’s fine. You’re okay with the vibrator though?” Kieren gets a vigorous nod at that. He smiles and takes Simon’s hand lightly, waiting for Simon to meet his eyes. “Is there anything else you wanted to look at? Anything you specifically want to try?”

Simon frowns, looking around the store for a minute before his eyes settle on something in the far corner, opposite the door. Following his gaze, Kieren spots the large glass display housing what seems like every butt plug known to man. He turns back to Simon.

“Want to go have a look?”

Simon gives a low ‘yeah’, then lets Kieren lead the way across to the display, Rowan noticing and crossing to wait for the pair by the plugs. Rowan asks a few questions about past experience, making sure to address the questions to the both of them, although Kieren’s the one who answers most of them. Then Rowan gives some simple tips on choosing a size and style before heading over to the counter, swapping places with a girl covered in floral tattoos.

The display is honestly amazing, housing every plug, in every style, made from every material Kieren could ever imagine. Some of them are alarmingly large, with huge flared bases and names like _‘The Destroyer’_ and _‘FulFILLment’_ that Kieren can’t help but laugh at. Simon looks over and frowns.

“That’s not even a little bit sexy.” He mutters.

An array of glass plugs catch Kieren’s eye, especially the ones with swirls of colour like blown glass inside them. He can’t resist imagining the steady weight of one in his hands, or the glass against Simon’s skin. They look wider at the base than most of the silicone plugs, and wouldn’t have the same give to them, but that only makes Kieren more interested. He realises Simon is watching him, brow creased. They’re at opposite ends of the display, but Kieren moves over to Simon where he stands by the smaller silicone plugs. He doesn’t miss the way Simon stays clear of anything metal.

“You want a glass one?” Simon asks, his casual tone just a little off. Kieren glances back at the other end of the display.

“I like them, but it’s about what you want too.” Simon falters, opening and closing his mouth a few times before responding.

“You’re in charge.” It’s said with resignation (not submission, the two are so, so different) and Kieren clenches his jaw to keep in what he wants to say. The middle of a sex store probably isn’t the best place to open up a conversation about past doms.

“Yeah, I am. But a big part of that is looking after you, Simon. So considering this thing is going to be going in your ass, I’d really prefer to get one you actually like.” He keeps his voice low and soft but Simon still blinks in vague surprise at the bluntness of the statement. Fingers tapping restlessly against one of the display shelves, Simon watches Kieren for a long moment before turning back to the silicone plugs.

“I think I’d rather start with something more… malleable.” He says eventually, eyes lingering on some of the smaller plugs. Kieren smiles.

“Whatever you want.” Then he leans in and kisses Simon, close-mouthed and firm. Because fuck it, they’re two zombie guys in coverup, standing in a sex store, and Kieren’s going to kiss Simon if he damn well pleases. The surprised noise Simon makes sends a flourish of warmth through Kieren’s chest, but he’s pulling away before Simon can part his lips for more. Kieren brushes their noses together lightly before drawing back fully, smiling at the dumbfounded angle of Simon’s eyebrows.

“What was that for?” Simon asks, clearing his throat when his voice hitches on the first syllable.

“Just because.” Kieren says, and Simon doesn’t argue.

They end up getting a simple red plug made from smooth silicone, Simon choosing everything but the colour, which he left to Kieren’s ‘artistic preferences’. Kieren just likes the idea of something so warm contrasting Simon’s white, white skin. Rowan is waiting at the counter when they go to pay, flashing that same bright smile while ringing up their purchases. The vibrator, plug and two new bottles of lube go into a nondescript black bag before Rowan reaches under the counter for a small package wrapped in dark tissue paper, winking at Simon. Rowan slips it into the bag, and judging from the way Simon won’t meet his eyes Kieren assumes it’s something he shouldn’t ask about just yet.

Simon pulls out his wallet, extracting the full amount in cash but Kieren stops him, handing over half of the cost. Raising a brow when Simon looks like he’s going to object, Kieren waits patiently for him to take the money.

He doesn’t have to wait too long.

Rowan throws in a 10% discount voucher for their next purchase and waves them off with a smile and a request to “Ask for me next time you come in!”. Then they’re on their way, Simon carrying their purchases in one hand and letting Kieren take the other to lead him back to the train station. The ride home is uneventful, but somewhere between the third and fourth stops Simon rests his head tentatively on Kieren’s shoulder. With the hand that’s not holding the bags he’s rubbing his index finger and thumb together, slowly dislodging the coverup until flecks of his snowy skin show, mottled like spots on a faun. Kieren takes Simon’s hand while the fingers of his other hand dip under Simon’s sleeve to stroke his wrist. They stay there until the train slows into Roarton. When they get off the train Simon drops Kieren’s hands, but their sleeves brush with how close they walk, making their way slowly through the twilight.

Jem’s perched on the front step when they turn down the driveway, a mug of steaming tea clasped between her mitten-covered hands. “Hey dickhead.” She greets as they draw closer. Kieren feels Simon halt beside him. “And boyfriend.” Jem adds, nodding to Simon, whose stiff shoulders seem to loosen a fraction.

“Why are you out here? Your cold’s just going to get worse.” Kieren gripes, waiting for Jem to clamber up so that he can follow her into the porch.

“Dad’s finally caught on and realised you two are an item,” She says, taking off one layer of knitwear as she enters the house. Behind him Simon freezes again. “I figured Simon could use the forewarning to prepare for the no doubt endless array of uncomfortable questions tonight.”

Simon has begun swaying restlessly, the fingers of his unoccupied hand tapping out a pattern on his thigh. Slowing, Kieren nods for Jem to go inside, leaving him alone with Simon in the porch. He reaches down to take Simon’s other hand, the shopping bags on their wrists rustling.

“You don’t have to, you know that.” He says gently, “I don’t mind if you just want to go home, or-”

“No, it’s fine. I want to stay. It’s good. I’m staying.” Simon sounds confident, but Kieren sees the tension in his shoulders, knows it’s not entirely genuine. He leans in to kiss Simon softly, one hand coming up to cup Simon’s cheek.

“Thank you.” He says against Simon’s lips, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone. A little of the coverup shifts with the movement and Kieren frowns. “We have to get this crap off.” He mutters, then turns to lead Simon into the house.

Steve’s already seated at the table, but he gets up when he sees them come in. At the same time Simon’s hand goes slack in Kieren’s, as if he expects Kieren to let go now that his dad is coming over. Instead, Kieren squeezes Simon’s hand a little tighter, shooting him a small smile. Steve stops about a meter from them in the living room, a benevolent look on his face as he pushes his hands into his jean pockets in an attempt at nonchalance.

“So… have a nice day in the city, boys?” He says, earning Kieren’s raised brow.

“Yeah, it was good.” Kieren says, then, when Steve just looks between them for long moments, adds, “We’re going upstairs to wash up, we’ll be down in a bit.”

“Oh, okay, yeah.” Steve says, rocking on the balls of his feet. “We’ll be here.” It’s only when Kieren moves to lead Simon upstairs that Steve seems to notice their hands, still entwined casually. He glances between Kieren and their linked fingers for a few moments, but thankfully says nothing.

Kieren leads Simon to his room, unzipping his jacket and tossing it on the bed before dropping his CD and art supplies on his desk. For a moment Simon just watches him, hovering in the doorway until he looks down and seems to remember he’s holding a bag of sex toys.

“What should I-?”

“Just leave it on the floor for now.” Kieren instructs when Simon starts to visibly panic. Then he heads for the bathroom, brushing a hand absently against Simon’s sleeve as he goes. He leaves the door open while he pops out his contacts, rummaging around in the cabinet for one of Jem’s makeup wipes. She hates it when he uses them (“Fuck you, they’re expensive.”) but using a damp cloth just takes far too long. Simon wanders in as Kieren’s rubbing the last of the mousse from under the hinge of his jaw, roughly scrubbing at the stubborn patch before moving on to the makeup on his hands.

“Should I…” Kieren glances up at Simon’s reflection in the mirror, though Simon’s staring at Kieren’s hands. “Should I leave mine on? I mean, your family might be more… comfortable.”

There’s a beat of silence while Kieren turns, brows creasing into a frown as he drops the used wipe in the bin. “You have to be comfortable too.” Kieren says slowly, watching the way Simon’s fingers twitch at his sides. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. “Simon, come here.”

For a long moment Kieren thinks Simon might not move, might stay there propped against the bathroom wall. But he doesn’t. He slowly straightens, takes the few steps to Kieren.

“Look at me.”

Simon does. Glances up with blue eyes that aren’t quite right, looks at Kieren like he is the answer to a question that’s yet to be asked.

“Take out your contacts.”

When Simon’s hands come up to his eyes Kieren turns, giving Simon privacy under the pretence of grabbing another makeup wipe. He knows Simon hates the transitionary period, hates people seeing him in-between. Simon likes to deal in absolutes. When he turns back Simon’s eyes are white and they meet his more steadily. Reaching up Kieren smooths the wipe along Simon’s cheek, the thick mousse coming off in dark streaks against the white fibres. It doesn’t take long, but Kieren lets it drag out, lingers on Simon’s throat, under his ear, dips the wipe under the collar of his shirt to get at the makeup there.

“Close your eyes.”

Simon does as instructed, Kieren running the wipe as delicately as possible over the fragile skin of his eyelids, reveals the darkness under his eyes too. His hands are last and Kieren pays particular attention to the webbing between Simon’s fingers, the curve of his wrist.

That’s when Kieren notices it; a fine tremor shaking through Simon’s hands.

He hesitates, breath caught in his throat, but no, it’s definitely there. Simon’s hands are undoubtedly shaking in his, fingers trembling minutely, and by the way Simon’s breath hitches quietly he’s noticed it too. Glancing back up Kieren sees a mix of terror and excitement in Simon’s eyes, which are wide and staring down at his own hands. Kieren hesitates, because what do you say in a situation like this? _‘It’s okay love, you’re just probably coming back to life, nothing to be concerned about’_? The tremors cease just as suddenly as they began, but even then Kieren and Simon stand there in silence, unsure of what words to fill the space with.

“We should go down. For dinner.” Simon says quietly after a while, continuing to watch his now still hands.

“Yeah.” Kieren squeezes Simon’s hands, lifts one to kiss the back of his palm. “C’mon.”

Flicking the light off in the bathroom they head downstairs to where Kieren’s family is patiently waiting to start eating. Once they’re seated Sue immediately starts dishing out roast chicken to Steve and Jem, who both seem reluctant to look at either Simon or Kieren for too long. Kieren’s used to it, the way they have to acclimatise to his bare, pallid face, but he places a reassuring hand on Simon’s thigh.

Dinner passes as well as could be expected, Sue directing most of the conversation and moving it back on track whenever Steve goes off on a tangent. Initially Simon is quiet, the distant look on his face suggesting his previously trembling hands are still weighing on his mind. Surprisingly it’s Jem who breaks him out of his thoughts, enquiring after his new vinyl and beginning a long conversation about the beauty of physical music.

“Even Kier gets it,” She says through a mouthful of carrots, “He used to make mix CDs all the time. I’m surprised he hasn’t made you, like, twenty by now.”

“He’s probably trying to spare me his shite taste in music. He bought a Fall Out Boy CD today.” Simon replies, smiling slyly at Kieren even as he pinches Simon’s thigh sharply under the table. It doesn’t hurt and Simon just grins wider.

“Didn’t I take you to one of their concerts in 2005?” Steve asks, from which point conversation quickly dissolves into the Walker family recalling every embarrassing element of Kieren’s punk phase in agonising detail. Kieren figures it’s worth it for the way Simon laughs.

When dinner’s over and Jem is begrudgingly clearing the table Kieren stands, Simon following suit and heading for the stairs. Steve, however, rises as well, watching the pair closely before stoping them in the living room.

“Where are you two off to now?” The question is odd, Steve’s casual tone belying a hint of suspicion, and when Kieren turns back his father is frowning.

“To the bungalow.” He replies slowly, because where else would they be going? Beside him Simon is frowning, glancing between Kieren and Steve in a way that proves he understands the sudden question as little as Kieren does.

“I think you should stay here tonight, Kier.” Steve says as Sue enters the room, clearly having heard the beginning of the conversation.

“Why?”

“Well…” Steve hesitates, “Because it’s a school night.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Except I haven’t gone to school in about five years.” Kieren’s frowning now, trying to keep calm in the face of his father treating him like a child. In front of Simon, no less. Simon who is 32. From the other side of the room Sue steps forward, glancing between her husband and son before speaking.

“You’ve been out a lot lately, Kier. It’d be nice to have you home for a night.” She turns to Simon, who is looking distinctly uncomfortable, hovering just a little behind Kieren. “Can you give him up for tonight?” It’s friendly and teasing, Sue smiling in a clear attempt to make sure Simon knows this isn’t a case of them against him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Simon,” Kieren begins, but Simon shrugs it off.

“Spend some time with your family, Kieren.” He says, and the sad smile that tugs at his lips is painful to watch, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Behind them Steve claps his hands together, but Kieren huffs out an irritated sigh.

“Fine, okay. Come on and we’ll get your stuff.” Pushing down the urge to take the stairs two at a time, Kieren leads Simon back to his room, pushing the door shut before turning on him. He crowds Simon up against the wall, hands roaming under his jumper to get at skin as he leans in to breathe into Simon’s ear.

“I had plans for tonight, you know.” He says, one hand drifting down to grasp at Simon’s ass, “I was going to have you on your hands and knees, fuck you so deep. I’d keep a hand on you, though, wouldn’t let you come.” His other hand has come up to thumb at Simon’s nipple. The reaction is instant, Simon wide-eyed and biting his lip even as he grips Kieren’s shoulders. “Then, when I was done I figured we could try out that plug. Keep you stretched until I could fuck you again, maybe a third time after that. It’d be hours before I’d let you come.”

“Kieren, your family-” Simon’s quiet protest is bitten off when Kieren kisses his neck, moving upwards until he can bite at Simon’s earlobe.

“I was going to have you so desperate by the end.” Kieren whispers, squeezing Simon’s ass and pulling him closer, feeling the beginning of Simon’s erection against his thigh. “Oh well.” He says and steps away.

Simon stays there, back to the wall, staring at Kieren in arousal and disappointment. He clearly wants more, judging by the way he adjusts himself in his jeans, but he won’t get it tonight. That’s his problem. Kieren grins, picks up the black bag from the floor and hands it to Simon.

“There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

“Whatever you want.” Simon says, pupils blown. Absently Kieren wonders if he knows how hot he is.

“I’ll come over tomorrow, about ten.” He steps closer, not pressing Simon to the wall like before, but close enough to place possessive hands on his hips. “I’d like you to have the plug in when I get there, okay?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yes.”

“Good.” Kieren kisses him, wet and quick. “And if you change your mind that’s okay too. Just because you said yes now doesn’t mean it still has to be a yes tomorrow.” He doesn’t doubt that Simon will do it, but at the same time he won’t hold Simon to a heated, split-second yes. Regardless of how much Kieren wants it.

“Okay.”

They kiss again, slowly this time, but Kieren knows they’ve already been upstairs for too long. Soon someone will come looking for them, and he’d really prefer not to have his dad walk in while he’s groping Simon. He pulls away reluctantly, muttering a quiet ‘c’mon’ before opening the door and leading the way into the hall. Even as they walk to the stairs Kieren can’t help but turn back from time to time, stealing kisses from a surprised but willing Simon. Steve and Sue are waiting in the living room and stand up when they come in. For a second they all hover, unsure of what to do.

“Uh-” Simon begins, “Thanks for having me, Sue, Steve. It was lovely.”

Then Sue walks around the couch and hugs Simon. His hands come up slowly, unsure, but after a minute he returns the hug, Sue squeezing him before stepping back and smiling.

“And it was lovely having you, Simon. You should come around more often, we’re always happy to see you.” Looking vaguely dumbfounded, Simon just nods. Steve moves forward then, extending a hand which Simon takes. He looks as if he might says something, but after a moment of silence he simply shakes Simon’s hand and smiles.

Jem, who had watched the whole exchange from the dining room, scoffs out a laugh. “See ya, Simon.” She says as she heads to the kitchen.

“Alright, I’m walking Simon to the door before this gets any weirder.” Kieren’s already heading for the porch as he says it, eager to get Simon away. Leading the way to the front door, it’s only when Simon has stepped out onto the front step that Kieren puts a hand on his neck, drawing him in for a final kiss. It’s short and sweet, but with Simon a step lower he has to push up onto his toes to kiss Kieren properly, one hand coming up to tenderly cup Kieren’s cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Simon says against Kieren’s lips, stealing one last peck before he turns to head back to the bungalow. Kieren lingers in the doorway, watching Simon’s long strides until he disappears around the corner and into the night.

When he goes back inside his parents are sitting side by side on the couch watching reruns of some detective show, so he heads into the kitchen where he can hear running water. Jem’s standing by the sink, letting it fill with soapy water while she tries to glare the dishes into doing themselves. Smiling, Kieren walks over and picks up a tea towel, handing it to her while he turns off the taps and begins washing cutlery. He hands dripping utensils to Jem as he goes, and she dries them efficiently before stacking them to be put away. They work in companionable silence for a while, listening to the sound of their parents poking fun at the “Really quite stupid if you ask me, Sue.” cop show.

“I saw some guy in a suit down at the bungalow today.” Jem says after a while, not looking up from the plate she’s drying. Kieren frowns.

“Anyone important?”

“Looked a bit like that guy Haley’s with, Amir or whatever his name is.” He didn’t know Amy was having anyone over, let alone Amir, but Jem would have said something more if he had looked suspicious. Kieren knows Amir deals with real estate - maybe he was over to sort out the whole _‘I died and my will was read and my assets distributed but I’m alive now oops’_ shenanigan.

“You and Simon are pretty serious then, hey?” Jem says, breaking off Kieren’s train of thought. He shrugs but can’t keep a tiny smile from his face.

“I guess, yeah.” Beside him Jem is slowly turning a glass in the tea towel, a few stray drops of water running down her wrists. He hesitates, weighing up the risk of his next question, but he trusts his sister. “You, uh… you don’t think I’m too young for him, do you?”

Jem looks at him strangely, clearly thrown off by the question, then contemplates it. Putting the glass down she accepts the now clean pot from Kieren, meeting his eyes as she does. “Do you think he’s too old for you?” She asks.

“No.”

“Then you’re not too young for him.” She says, as if that settles the matter. “Besides,” She smirks, “You’re both kinda dead anyway. Age is just a number.”

Kieren laughs and flicks soap suds at her, but the look on her face slowly turns from teasing to sincere. “He makes you happy. That’s what matters, really.” The statement is surprisingly earnest, Kieren turning to look at his sister. “I’m glad for you, Kier. You deserve to be happy.”

Kieren considers Jem for a moment, and wonders when she turned from his snot nosed little sister into a young woman. Her dark hair is dirty and there are blue-purple circles under her eyes, but her cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the house. Her delicate hands, hands like his, are steady on the pot she’s drying. When she notices him watching her she flushes, not prone to such candid shows of emotion, and quickly looks back at the pot.

“Thanks, Jem. Really.”

“Shut up.” She says, still embarrassed, “I’m only being nice because I feel sorry for you.”

Kieren frowns at that, pausing where he was scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a baking pan. “What? Why?”

“Because dad stopped you from going back to the bungalow and boning your boyfriend, you horny git.” Gasping out a scandalised laugh, Kieren tosses a soapy handful of water at his sister, who shrieks and leaps back, almost dropping the pot as she does.

Thus begins a water fight that Sue has to break up ten minutes later when she walks into a kitchen covered in puddles, and “For God’s sake you two are meant to be adults.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual comments, critiques and any other pointers are welcome and encouraged!
> 
> Also I've included a non-binary character in this chapter, and though I did my research, I'm not non-binary, so if I've messed anything up or misrepresented anything, don't hesitate to let me know!!!


	4. Chapter 4

When Kieren arrives at the bungalow the next morning Amy is on her way out, a stack of brochures under one arm and a picnic basket under the other. She beams when she sees him and leans in to kiss his cheek.

“Off on a day trip?”

“Of course!” Amy says, skirts swishing as she steps back. “Phillip and I are having brunch with gran, then we’re heading into town for the afternoon.”

“Another romantic getaway?” Kieren asks, but a strange look crosses Amy’s features and her smile wavers for a moment.

“Not quite. I have to go, but meet me at our graves tomorrow, yeah? There’s some stuff we need to talk about.” Her smile is back, but the cheeriness of her voice seems a little off. Kieren frowns, follows her for a few steps when she heads towards the street.

“Amy, is something wrong?” This makes her pause, turning back to him.

“No, of course not handsome.” She says, and it sounds genuine. “I just haven’t had that much time with you lately is all. You’re my BDFF remember? We can’t ditch each other, no matter how handsome our boyfriends are.” Her eyes - Kieren’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the hazel - are bright and honest, so he just nods.

“About ten tomorrow?” He says, already backing towards the bungalow. Amy nods, lingering for only a moment before heading off down the road. The door to the bungalow is unlocked and Kieren lets himself in as he ponders Amy’s slightly odd behaviour.

It wasn’t unusual for Amy to request a meeting by their graves. She preferred the outdoors, loving the cold wind in her hair now that she could feel it again, and regardless of the number of times she’d been buried there, the cemetery was still her favourite spot to take in the country air. Yet this time felt off somehow. _There’s some stuff we need to talk about_ , she had said. Not her usual ‘let’s gossip’ or ‘I have news’. This phrasing seemed heavier, weighed down by with ambiguity.

 _There’s something she’s not telling me,_ Kieren realises as he wanders through the bungalow searching for Simon. _Something she wants to tell me._

The thought is nerve-wracking, because Amy is honest to a fault most of the time. Even the idea that she is hiding something, a something big enough to make her smile falter and her eyes darken, sets Kieren on edge. Trying to push the budding anxiety from his mind Kieren heads in the direction of Simon’s room.

He finds Simon sitting on the bed, back propped against the headboard as he reads a thin book, clad in a worn t-shirt and soft grey track pants. It’s the most casual Kieren has ever seen him, having honestly believed that Simon didn’t even own track pants, let alone wear them. Except, wait- the left ankle has a red paint stain on it, and there’s a tear just above the right knee from a nail that used to stick out from Jem’s doorframe.

“Are those mine?”

Simon glances down at his legs, brows raised. “Yes.”

Kieren didn’t really need the confirmation, but Simon’s bluntness, his clear confidence in wearing Kieren’s clothes sends a thrill through him. Walking around the bed, Kieren looks down into Simon’s white eyes for a moment before bracing his hands on the headboard and leaning in to kiss him. It’s meant to be chaste, a hello of sorts, but Simon cranes his neck, dips his tongue into Kieren’s mouth for more.

“I like you in my clothes.” Kieren murmurs when he pulls away, Simon’s mouth chasing his. _Eager_ , Kieren thinks, _so needy today-_

 _Oh._ Kieren thinks of his request the night before, of the red silicone plug. Perhaps?

He doesn’t want to make assumptions, won’t put that kind of pressure on Simon even in his own head, but what else could have Simon so eager? Kieren tries to steal a glance at Simon’s lap, but he’s holding his book over his crotch, so really there’s no way to know if he’s hard or not. A different route, then.

“I was going to suggest we go out or something, but maybe that can wait…” Kieren says slowly, no protests coming from Simon. There’s a building sense of anticipation welling in his chest, and he wonders if Simon notices, wonders if he can see it in the slow steps he takes to the other side of the bed. Kieren sits down to unlace his boots then settles on the bed beside Simon, back to the headboard and skinny legs splayed out before him. Immediately Simon is on him, book abandoned in his lap as he reaches over to cup Kieren’s face and pull him into a kiss. Kieren goes willingly, licking into Simon’s mouth and wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist, coaxing him closer while biting at his lips. They rearrange themselves as they kiss, Simon gradually moving until he’s straddling Kieren’s thighs, tongue running against the back of his teeth. It’s undeniably sexy, having Simon in his lap, mouth demanding against his, but Kieren soon pulls away, pressing a hand lightly to Simon’s throat when he tries to follow.

Already Simon’s pupils are blown, his hands gripping at Kieren’s shoulders through layers of hoodies and shirts. Smirking, Kieren leans in until their lips are millimetres apart, noses brushing. He feels the tension in Simon’s neck, the amount of effort he’s putting into not pushing against the hand on his throat. “Good.” Kieren says, moving to nip at Simon’s jaw just above his jugular. He runs his hands slowly down Simon’s sides, stopping at the small of his back, just under where the scar ends. “What are you reading?”

Simon moves back a little, blinks owlishly at Kieren. “Poetry.” he says after a moment, Kieren humming and skimming fingers over the waistband of his track pants. “Crush, by Richard Si-” His words are cut off by a sharp intake of breath because Kieren dipped his fingers under Simon’s waistband.

And found lace.

Kieren pauses, feeling Simon go still above him. He wriggles his fingers a little, but no, that’s definitely lace he can feel against his fingertips; soft, expensive lace hugging the curve of Simon’s ass. This wasn’t something they’d discussed, Kieren can’t even remember if lingerie was on the sheets he’d printed, but as he slips his other hand into Simon’s trousers to spread palms over his lace-covered ass, Kieren is acutely aware that _this is really fucking hot._

“Simon,” he says lowly, “Are you wearing lace knickers?” Simon’s fingers flex against Kieren’s arms, but he meets Kieren’s eyes when he nods. Kieren is hit with the heady knowledge that he could reach around right now, tug down the front of Simon’s trousers and see the expensive lace against pale skin. But Simon is still frozen in his lap, eyes trained on Kieren’s every reaction. “Show me?” Kieren asks instead.

When Simon climbs off the bed it’s without reluctance or haste, and he goes about undoing the ties on his trousers as if he were unlacing his shoes. But when he lets the grey fabric skim down his hips and pool around his feet it’s almost pornographic. The soft noise Kieren makes when Simon bends to pull the trousers off is frankly embarrassing.

“Jesus.” Kieren breathes.

The underwear is _beautiful._

Sheer black lace hugs Simon’s harrow hips, scalloping around the edges a stark contrast to the angles of his body. They’re clearly made for men, the lace comfortably cupping Simon’s cock where it’s already stirring, swelling a little against the delicate material. Kieren’s staring, he can’t help it. Gesturing for Simon to come closer, Kieren automatically reaches for his hips, guiding Simon back onto his lap without once looking away from the lace against his skin.

“You like them?” Simon asks, hands coming to rest on Kieren’s chest.

“God, _Simon.”_ The material is so soft under Kieren’s fingers, slipping his hands around to grope at Simon’s ass. “They’re amazing. You’re amazing.” Simon preens under the compliments, ducking his head to hide a smile while Kieren continues to explore the curve of his ass covered in lace.

“I got them the other day. I didn’t know if you’d like them or not, but I figured it was worth a try.” He’s pressing back a little into Kieren’s touch, pushing his ass into Kieren’s hands when he slips them under the knickers and between his cheeks.

Kieren’s fingers brush against something and Simon lets out a tiny noise.

“Is that-?” Simon’s already nodding, Kieren’s fingers finding the flat base of the plug nestled against his ass. “Fuck, _Simon._ ” He says, voice almost reverent before he’s leaning up to kiss Simon hard, sucking at Simon’s tongue even as he toys lightly with the plug. It has Simon’s breath hitching, despite how little Kieren’s moving the plug, and he takes the opportunity to bite down on Simon’s lower lip, tugging at it before leaning back.

He spends a moment just taking in the sight of Simon, wearing nothing but black lace underwear over a growing erection, plugged and eager in his lap. It’s the hottest thing Kieren’s ever seen. Slipping one hand out of Simon’s pants, Kieren fumbles blindly until he finds the book lying abandoned on the bed beside them, handing it to Simon. “Read me something.”

Simon hesitates. “What?” There’s confusion in his white eyes, but Kieren just slides his hand back under the lace, gripping Simon’s ass firmly before replying.

“Read me something, Simon. For every line you read I’ll give you something you want, but when you stop, I stop. Colour?” Simon gazes at him for a long moment, eyes wide, before breathing out a ‘green’. Kieren nips at his jaw. “So read.” For a moment he thinks Simon won’t do it, but eventually Simon flicks the book open and begins reciting slowly from the page, accent heavy.

 _“If there was one thing I could save from the fire, he said, the-_ oh.” Simon breaks off when Kieren spreads his cheeks and tugs lightly at the plug where it’s pressed up inside him. There’s a slickness around Simon’s hole that must be lube and Kieren runs a finger teasingly around his rim while he waits for him to keep reading.

“ _The broken arms of the –_ ah – _the sycamore,_ ” Simon continues after a moment, anticipation making his voice a little less steady while Kieren takes hold of the base of the plug. He twists it softly, feels Simon’s ass flex as he clenches down on the silicone. Kieren doesn’t miss the way Simon’s eyelashes flutter as he fights to focus on the page he’s reading from.

“ _The eucalyptus still trying to climb out of the yard —_ ” He presses the plug firmer against Simon’s hole, making Simon’s breath hitch around the words, but he doesn’t stop reading. As a reward Kieren leans in to suck a bruising kiss to his neck, biting and licking at the skin there and feeling the vibrations of Simon’s voice. It’s a heady rush of power, being able to hear Simon’s every response as Kieren begins to slowly pull and twist the plug inside him. He learns each noise quickly, knows that rotating the plug will earn him a breathy grunt whereas pulling it gently against Simon’s rim gets him a low, eager moan. It’s the latter that Kieren’s after, running fingertips around Simon’s hole as he tugs at the plug, feeling the way it’s flared base stretches him. The plug isn’t large by any means, but it’s enough for Kieren to have fun with. Simon’s erection straining the front of the lace underwear makes his feelings on it clear.

“Keep reading,” Kieren instructs when he notices Simon’s overly long pause. He pushes the plug back in sharply as he says it, drawing a loud moan from Simon.

 _“Y-your breath on my neck like a music that holds my hands down, -_ Kieren, oh,” Simon’s hips have started to thrust back minutely, seeking friction that Kieren won’t give him yet. _“Kisses as they burn their way along my spine-_ ” The plug must be pressed up right against his prostate because when Kieren presses it in even harder Simon jolts, thighs tensing for an instant on either side of Kieren’s hips. He keeps reading though, even as Kieren begins biting down his chest towards one of his nipples, licking a hard, flat stripe over it before taking it into his mouth. Kieren sucks at the peaked nub, flicking the tip of his tongue over it and making Simon shiver, before scraping his teeth against the sensitive flesh. Simon lets out a low noise, hand not holding up the book coming up to rest at the back of Kieren’s neck, but he only pauses for a moment.

 _“Or rain, our –_ fuck - _our bodies wet, clothes clinging,”_ His breath hitches sharply, hips making little aborted movements while Kieren sets up a rhythm, pulling the plug out until Simon’s hole is stretched around the widest part of the base before pushing it back in fully. With the way he’s curved forward to lap mouth at Simon’s nipples, now swapping to the other side, there’s no chance of Simon getting any friction on his straining cock. Still he tries, hips jerking back onto the plug then forwards against the air, cock pressed up against his own stomach in the tight lace underwear.

 _“Arm to elbow –_ please, Kieren - _clothes clinging, nipple to groin,”_ He’s getting desperate now, thrusting back onto the plug while Kieren holds its base, hardly having to move it at all. For a moment Kieren considers indulging Simon, taking his cock and stroking him to completion, but he thinks better of it. Still, it wouldn’t take much for Simon to come now, not with the way he’s groaning after every other word of the poem.

 _“I’ll be right here. I’m waiting.”_ It must be the end of the verse because Simon drops the book, letting it bounce of the bed and fall to the floor as he grips Kieren’s shoulder. “Kieren, please. I need more, please-” His words are cut short by a long, unhappy groan when Kieren pulls his hands away, slipping them out of Simon’s underwear to grasp his hips.

Pulling Simon in for a kiss, Kieren moves a hand around to squeeze Simon’s cock through the lace, swallowing the noise Simon makes into his mouth. Predictably Simon ruts into his palm, hips moving restlessly. Trailing his fingers lower, Kieren cups Simon’s balls before wandering back up to rub his thumb at the head of Simon’s cock where it peeks out over the scalloped waistband. His own jeans have been uncomfortably tight for a while, but it’s only when Simon whimpers against his lips that Kieren decides to do something about it.

“Get up.” Kieren says, tapping Simon’s ass lightly.

“Already am.” The quip isn’t exactly out of character, but Simon’s never mouthy when they’re like this and Kieren can’t help but reel back a little when he says it. Simon’s hands are at the back of Kieren’s neck, nails scratching over the soft hairs there, and he stares down at Kieren almost as if daring him to do something. To push him.

Kieren’s not one to disappoint.

“Alright, off.” Even as he says it Kieren’s pushing Simon off his lap, letting him fall back against the sheets with a _whump_. He shoves himself up onto his elbows, watching Kieren in anticipation, but his brow furrows and a look of distress crosses his face when Kieren gets off the bed and walks to the other side of the room. Taking a seat in the chair by the end of the bed, Kieren splays his legs and levels Simon with a heavy gaze, taking in the sight of him - pale and panting - in lace.

“Wait- Kieren, I-”

“Don’t talk.” The reaction is instant, Simon going silent though his purple lips stay parted. Kieren gives him a brief smile, reassuring, before he continues. “Wherever you’ve put the vibrator, I want you to go get it.” Hesitantly Simon leans across the bed to pull open the nightstand drawer, taking the small silver vibrator out, along with an almost empty bottle of lube. He places them on the sheets beside him and pushes himself a little further up the bed, settling with his back propped against the pillows. “Good. Now I want you to put that in yourself and give me the remote. Colour?”

The bluntness of it must startle Simon, because for a moment he doesn’t move, just stares at Kieren across the room. “Green.” He says throatily after a while. Very slowly he reaches down to take off the lace underwear, fingers hooking in the waistband and dragging them over his thighs.

“Leave them there.” Kieren instructs when the underwear is around his knees. Simon does as he’s told.

Watching on appreciatively, Kieren wishes he could be closer, wishes he could run his hands up Simon’s thighs and work the red plug out of his ass. Instead he leaves Simon to do it, brows furrow with the mix of pleasure and discomfort from removing the plug. Kieren wants so badly to kiss that look away, to slip his fingers into Simon and fuck him on them. But this is about Simon, and right now Simon needs something else.

Eyes fixed on Kieren, Simon tosses him the small remote before unravelling the short cord on the vibrator and coating the body in lube. Then he reaches down, pushing his hips forward for a better angle and teasing it lightly over his hole. When Kieren simply raises a brow Simon’s lips twist in a half-smirk, letting out a small noise of pleasure as he pushes the vibrator into himself. It’s not large, but it’s enough to have Simon squirming just a little, cock still hard and flushed against his stomach.

“Put them back on.” Kieren says, gesturing to the underwear. He gets a little frown in response, but Simon pulls them back down anyway, avoiding toughing his cock as he does so. “You’re so hot like this Simon.” Kieren says. _Good boy_ , he thinks. Then he raises the little black remote, showing it to Simon, and says “Colour?”.

“Still green.” It’s breathy and a little excited, so Kieren doesn’t make him wait, flicking the vibrator onto its lowest setting. The reaction is immediate; Simon jolts on the bed before relaxing into it, one hand resting on his stomach while the other takes a loose hold of the sheets. In his jeans Kieren is uncomfortably hard, knows Simon can probably see the bulge from across the room, but Kieren won’t touch himself. Simon wanted attention so he’s going to get it, undivided.

On the bed Simon’s hips have started to move, little thrusts and twists while his hand shifts restlessly on his stomach, eyes still trained on Kieren. He wants more, that much is obvious, the low hum of the vibrator not enough for him. Still, Kieren waits a few more minutes, until he can see Simon’s ass clenching through sheer lace, trying to feel more than just the soft vibrations of the low setting. Watching Simon closely, Kieren flicks it to the second setting, the buzzing increasing under the sound of Simon’s hitched moan.

They go on like that for what seems like an age, Kieren leaving Simon to squirm and pant, never quite giving him enough when he needs it. By the time Kieren puts the vibrator on the third setting Simon’s making quiet, continuous noises and rocking his hips uselessly. At the fourth he clenches the sheets in one hand, the other coming up to tweak at a nipple. Kieren lets him do it for a moment, indulging in the sight of Simon, splayed out and completely at his mercy, before dropping the vibrations back to setting three. This earns him an unhappy groan, but Simon’s hand comes away from his own chest to mirror the other on the bed, twisting through the sheets. His cock is straining the lace of his underwear, flushed purple and twitching whenever he clenches down on the vibrator, but he keeps watching Kieren through heavy-lidded eyes.

When Kieren clicks the vibrator up to five, however, something in Simon shifts. He shudders, thighs tensing and fingers twisting in the sheets, then lets out a long whine, the muscles of his stomach flexing as he shivers. His cock jerks against the confines of the lace underwear, and he begins to move his hips restlessly, trying to thrust down onto the vibrator. It’s only minutes before he starts talking, voice scratchy from disuse.

“Please, Kieren.” He gasps out, “Please, I need- I need more, _please._ ” It’s needy, desperate, but there’s something else in there too – something in the way Simon closes his eyes, tips his head back and bites his lip. He’s holding back, must have been for a while.

“What do you want, Simon?” Kieren asks slowly, eyes never leaving Simon’s tense body, his quivering muscles. When there’s no reply save for Simon’s laboured breathing Kieren stands, moving slowly forward until he can run a gentle hand along Simon’s calf. “Simon, tell me what you need.”

It’s like tapping a crack in a sheet of glass. Suddenly everything’s shattering, Simon gasping out little half-whines as he comes, body shaking violently and cock jerking. The low buzz of the vibrator remains while Simon trembles through his orgasm, muscles straining and fingers twisted into the sheets. Kieren lets him fall apart, watches the tiny shudders that wrack Simon’s body as the aftershocks dissipate and he begins to whimper, the vibrator too much for his over-sensitive body. Flicking the setting back down to one, Kieren lets it run a little longer as he undresses, climbing onto the bed in only his pants. Oddly, Simon is quiet as he moves closer, only letting out the occasional mewl.

Simon’s eyes are glassy, staring vacantly up at the ceiling even as he shivers from time to time, the vibrator still humming. Though he came, the usual look of satisfied contentment isn’t there, causing Kieren to frown as he turns off the vibrator completely. In the sudden silence Simon lets out a small breath, his entire body going lax, but still he doesn’t look okay.

“Simon? What’s wrong?” Kieren asks, reaching out to run tender hands over Simon’s arms and up to cradle his face. Meeting his eyes Simon seems to take a moment to register what he’s been asked.

“N-nothing. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Maybe it’s unfair, voicing it like a command, but this is important, _so_ important. Simon readjusts himself, trying to sit up a little more, but he avoids Kieren’s eyes.

“I’m not… I don’t want to- to talk, not right now.” The vulnerability in Simon’s voice physically hurts, cutting a line of coldness through Kieren’s chest, and all he wants in the world is to hold Simon, pull him close and figure out how to help him. But it’s not about what Kieren wants.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks. It only takes a moment for Simon to reply.

“Fuck me, please.” It’s not at all what Kieren expects, and though he’s still mostly hard in his pants, he hesitates. Simon’s cock is soft in the lace underwear and he won’t be getting hard again in the near future. Undead refractory periods are good, but not that good. But when Kieren glances back up Simon’s eyes are pleading, and there’s no way he would deny him now.

“Okay,” He says, leaning in to kiss Simon gently, “It’s okay, love.” Kieren doesn’t miss the way Simon’s breath catches in his throat at the endearment, lips just a little bit more insistent against his. Reaching down he hooks his fingers into Simon’s underwear, pulling away only to draw them over his thighs and off his legs, pressing a tiny kiss to Simon’s knee as he goes. He shucks his own pants, tossing them off the bed before urging Simon to lie down and stretching out alongside him.

Wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist, Kieren kisses him for ages, ignoring the heat in his gut and the hardness between his legs for the time being. It’s not long, however, before he’s rutting lightly against Simon’s hip, the arm around Simon’s waist reaching down to cup his ass.

“Roll over.” Ever obedient, Simon turns so that Kieren can plaster himself to Simon’s back, keenly aware of the long scar now pressed to his chest. He runs a hand down Simon’s side and over his thigh, drawing his leg up until he’s spread open enough for Kieren to rut along the cleft of his ass. Simon places a hand over Kieren’s on his thigh, tender and seeking, so Kieren links their fingers together and moves their joined hands to Simon’s chest. Where his now still heart would have once beat.

Simon’s still slick with lube, the vibrator coming out easily and getting discarded on the bed behind Kieren, who teases the head of his cock over Simon’s hole for a moment. “This still okay?” He breathes, pressing a kiss to Simon’s shoulder. He feels Simon nod, but he won’t ask for anything more right now, and pushes in slowly.

Simon’s slick and tight, so perfect around Kieren’s cock. He gives it a moment, laying gentle kisses to the back of Simon’s neck for before thrusting once experimentally. The position is new for them, the pressure amazing for Kieren, but he waits for Simon’s reaction before he does anything else. In his arms Simon lets out a shaky breath and holds Kieren’s hand tighter.

“Please.” Simon says, and that’s all Kieren needs.

He fucks Simon slowly, listening out for every hitch of Simon’s breath and soft noise that escapes his lips. It’s incredibly intimate; being pressed so close that every breath he takes is drawn from the hollow between Simon’s shoulder blades. Still, Kieren can’t ignore his body, can’t stave off the arousal that’s been building for so long, and after a while he’s pushing into Simon with long, deep strokes, loving the way Simon clenches around him. For his part Simon stays relatively quiet, only letting out a small moan or quiet gasp every now and again, but whenever Kieren asks _how do you feel, is this is still good, do you need more_ , Simon just nods.

When Kieren comes it’s with his cock buried in Simon’s ass, biting down lightly on the back of Simon’s neck. Once the aftershocks subside he pulls out slowly, mindful of the uncomfortable grunt Simon makes, and fishes around off the side of the bed for his t-shirt, which he uses to clean them up. Then he’s immediately back at Simon’s side, drawing him close until he’s pressed to Kieren’s flank, head nestled against Kieren’s shoulder.

Recently Kieren’s skin has started to warm, just a little, and he can feel the cold now, feel the light chill of Simon’s skin against his own. For a while he lets Simon stay like that, quiet and withdrawn, but he knows they need to talk about this. He runs his fingers through Simon’s hair the whole while, but takes Simon’s long exhale minutes later as his cue to speak.

“What happened?”

It’s a while before Simon answers. “You didn’t touch me.” He says into Kieren’s chest, “It’s- it felt clinical.” Kieren’s heart plummets, his stomach tying instantly into brittle, frozen knots.

 _Clinical,_ Simon had said, _like a fucking experiment._

Kieren knows more than enough about Simon’s ‘treatment’ to know what it means, the implications of the word. He suddenly feels dirty, disgusted with himself for ever, _ever_ making Simon feel like he was something to be watched objectively, and fuck Kieren should have known, should have seen. When Simon shifts to look up at him Kieren realises he hasn’t replied, has been sitting there with a horrified look on his face and his mouth pressed into a thin line. In Simon’s hair his fingers start moving again.

“I’m so, so sorry. Jesus, Simon,” Kieren’s aware of how his voice trembles for a moment, but Simon’s not been out of subspace for long, so he clears his throat. When he speaks again his voice is steadier. “I never, _ever_ meant for it to be like that. I didn’t even think- It never occurred to me that it could come off that way, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Simon’s turned his head back down, nuzzling a little closer to Kieren. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, Simon. You trust me to dominate you, which means I have a responsibility to look after you, and I didn’t.”

“I didn’t mind at first.” Simon says quietly, “When you were just watching and telling me what to do… that was good. But then- I don’t know.” He trails off, and Kieren considers him for a moment.

“So me watching you is okay, yeah? And instructing you. What about the vibrator?” Against his chest Simon nods, humming out an affirmative. “And the underwear?” Kieren asks, gesturing to the bundle of lace lying forgotten at the end of the bed. Simon shrugs.

“I bought them.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to like them. Trying something new doesn’t always result in-”

“It’s not new.” Simon cuts in, fingers scratching a little harder through the hair of Kieren’s navel. Glancing down at the top of Simon’s dark head Kieren frowns and is about to ask for clarification when Simon pre-empts him. “There was a guy, back when I was… before. He liked to dress me up, y’know. I wasn’t really a fan of stockings or anything, but I liked the underwear, and it was worth it. He had some of the purest heroin I’d ever tried.” The story sets Kieren’s nerves on edge, teeth grinding, but he knows there’s little he can do about it. Except, of course, be the kind of dom Simon actually deserves, “I liked it then, figured I’d like it now. I knew you’d like the lace, you like pretty things, and it was something new to try. You did like it, right?” Simon shifts, tilting his head back to meet Kieren’s eyes.

“Yeah, Simon.” Kieren huffs out, scratching across Simon’s scalp, “A lot. But did you?” Simon frowns, goes to protest, but Kieren beats him. “Just because you liked something before doesn’t mean you need to like it now, with me. Especially if it’s something you associate with a… less balanced relationship.”

For a moment Simon seems to consider that, but when he turns back to Kieren he doesn’t look particularly effected. “I liked it, yeah. Mainly because you liked it too, I think. I was giving you something, rather than having it chosen for me like before.” Kieren nods his understanding, because the logic makes sense to him, despite any concerns about Simon’s past relationships. For a while, however, something has been gnawing at him, and he hesitates before voicing it.

“Simon?” He waits for white eyes to meet his. “Why didn’t you safeword? I asked for your colour twice and you said green both times.” Beside him Simon goes still, fingers tapping out a nervous pattern on Kieren’s ribs.

“I didn’t want to… I wanted to be good for you.” Kieren doesn’t miss the significance of the words, a mirror of the praise he so often showers Simon with during scenes. He pulls Simon closer, but when he speaks his voice is firm.

“Simon, being good for me means letting me give you what you need, not letting me do whatever you think I want. I would have been just as happy sucking you off or rimming you as I would have anything else. Anything that makes you feel good makes me feel good.” He hesitates, not sure whether to say the next part for fear of how Simon may interpret it. “When you don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable you break the trust we need to make this work. If I can’t trust you to tell me your limits, how can I trust myself to know or respect them?”

For a long time Simon says nothing, fingers stilled against Kieren’s sternum. Then he exhales, seeming to deflate at Kieren’s side. “Sorry.” He murmurs.

“Don’t apologise. Just, in the future, tell me when you don’t like something. We don’t have to stop, and I won’t punish you for it, but you need to tell me. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Comes the quiet reply, and although it’s not entirely convincing Kieren knows it’s the best he can expect for now. They lie together for a while longer before Kieren pipes up again.

“Is what we do enough for you?”

Simon looks up at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Well, I know I’m new to this whole thing, but I sometimes wonder if what we do is a little… tame? I mean, we do have our options limited a bit by the whole not feeling pain business and come play is out of the question. We’re not doing restrains.” He shrugs, jostling Simon’s head a little on his shoulder. “I just wonder if what we’re doing is enough for you.”

“It’s more than enough.” Simon says earnestly, “I’m more into the… dynamic. So what we’re doing is fine. It’s great.” Kieren smiles at that. Despite having Simon pliant in his arms, coming down from the high of subspace and blissfully relaxed, he still worries. Pressing fingers to Simon’s jaw he angles him up for a kiss, slow and tempered, breaking away only when his neck starts to ache from the angle.

“That being said,” Simon murmurs between kisses, lips brushing Kieren’s with each word, “I didn’t mind that dirty talk the other night.” Kieren would flush if he could, but fortunately his body is nowhere near producing blood yet. “I could definitely live with more of that.” Simon’s grinning now, mood seemingly lifter, but Kieren has read more than enough about sub drop to be cautious.

And if he spends far longer than usual on aftercare, well, Simon certainly doesn’t complain.

 

* * *

 

When Kieren gets home Steve is waiting for him, hosing a pot of flowers that’s so overflowing with water that it’s begun to seep onto the driveway.

“Oh, hi Kieren.” It’s the worst impression of mild surprise Kieren’s ever seen, but he smiles amusedly at his father nonetheless.

“Hey Dad. Trying to drown Mum’s tulips?” Steve glances at the plants he’s torturing and quickly redirects the hose to a less sodden shrub.

“So, where’ve you been?”

“At the bungalow, Dad, you know that. What’s this about?”

“Can’t a father ask his son about his day?” Steve says, affronted, but Kieren quirks a brow until he huffs out a sigh. “Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About, uh, Simon.”

“What about him?” Kieren asks mildly. He really hopes this conversation isn’t going where he thinks it’s going.

“Well, it’s just… are you two… is he your boyfriend?” The noise Kieren makes is half shocked laughter, half embarrassed groan. “No, Kier, I just mean- your mum and I are totally supportive, we just want to make sure he’s not leading you on or anything.” Kieren grimaces, begins to protest but Steve keeps going. “We want to make sure that you know where you stand with one another and all that, because, you know, we don’t want you taken advantage of or anything. Not to say that Simon’s not a good person, but, well, with all that ULA business back when and-”

“ _Alright_ , Dad!” Kieren exclaims, holding up his hands as if to physically fight off Steve’s mortifying tangent. Steve waits expectantly. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just… he’s my person, or something.”

“What do you mean ‘or something’?”

“I don’t know, I mean- like, we’re dating and stuff, but- I don’t know.” Steve’s eyebrows are furrowed, and it’s a long moment before he speaks again.

“Are you two…” He hesitates, Kieren watching on with bemusement. “I mean… well, are you _being safe?_ ”

“Oh my god, Dad!” Kieren cries indignantly, thankful yet again that he can’t blush. Steve looks just about as uncomfortable as Kieren feels.

“I’m just asking because you’re my son, Kieren, and if you and Simon are boyfriend and- well, boyfriend - then-”

“We haven’t discussed it, dad.” Kieren grits out, cutting Steve off mid-sentence. “We’re… in a relationship, but we haven’t talked about labels or anything, okay? Are we done?” The look that spreads across Steve’s face is one of both confusion and, Kieren hesitates to think it, happiness. For a minute they stand there in silence, the shrub Steve’s hosing receiving a thorough drowning, before Steve’s face splits into a smile.

“Okay.” He says, nodding a little. “Good, great.” Kieren can’t help but huff out a laugh, albeit a strained one, before making his way past his father and towards the house. He glances back before stepping inside.

“Dad, if you’re going to keep hosing that bush you may want to put wellies on.” He calls, nodding to where the excess water is flowing out of the dirt and seeping into the hem of Steve’s jeans. Steve jumps, rushing to turn off the hose lest his favourite jeans suffer any more damage.

Jem’s waiting just inside, holding in giggles even as Kieren glares half-heartedly at her. “This is better than the time mum found gay porn in our internet history.” She gasps out between fits of laughter.

“Shut up, Jem.” He growls, and totally doesn’t hide in his room until dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re late!’’ Amy’s perched on a tiny fold-out chair by Kieren’s grave, a sprig of flowers in one hand and an envelope in the other. Ducking his head apologetically, Kieren walks over and takes a seat on the dry grass beside her. He has to look up to meet her eyes, and with the way her head blocks the sun she appears to have a halo. Kieren smiles. “No excuse?” She teases.

“Jem’s therapist called. She wanted to talk to me about our sibling relationship.” He says mildly, but Amy frowns. “It’s okay, she seems really nice, even if she is a bit nosy. But I guess that’s her job, really.”

“How’s she doing?” Amy asks gently, obviously not referring to the therapist. Kieren plants his hands behind him, leaning back and turning his face towards the sun, hoping he’s not imagining the pinpricks of warmth he feels on his eyelids.

“Much better now. She’s not having nightmares as often, and even then she says they aren’t as bad. And she’s locked the Colt in a box that only I have the key to, so that’s one less thing for her to worry about.” Next to him Amy shifts, reaching out to touch his cheek gently.

“She’s lucky to have you.”

It’s a soft moment, Kieren basking in it before blinking his eyes open against the harsh sun, turning again to Amy. “So, what is it you brought me out here to tell me?” At that Amy smiles brightly, handing a bemused Kieren the small bunch of blue flowers.

“Those are forget-me-nots, which people used to wear so that they would never be forgotten by their true love. I’m giving them to you, Kieren Walker, so that you can give them to me, which will ensure that you’ll never forget me, your first undead love.” Throughout Amy’s impassioned speech Kieren’s eyebrows rise, a confused smile tilting his lips.

“Okay, but why would I forget you? I see you just about every day.” Amy’s grin turns a little hesitant then, and she slowly holds out the envelope in her other hand to Kieren. Frowning, he takes it, feeling the torn edge where it’s already been opened, the weight of the expensive paper.

“Because I’m going to uni, handsome. In the city.”

At first the words don’t register, because _no, we just got Amy back, she can’t be leaving again_. But the envelope, when Kieren finally glances at it, carries the crest of the Lancaster University, and even before he pulls out the letter inside Kieren knows what it will say. The shock ebbs as Kieren reads over the acceptance notification, quickly being replaced by a swell of joy.

“Amy, oh my god.” He looks up to see her biting her lip, clearly worried about how he’ll react. Kieren’s face breaks into a shocked grin. “You’re going to uni! In the city! I’m so happy for you.” The smile that overtakes Amy’s face is brilliant. Suddenly she’s throwing herself down into Kieren’s arms, almost toppling off her tiny chair in the process. There’s brown hair in his face, tickling his nose, but Kieren doesn’t care, just hugs Amy back for all he’s worth.

When she rights herself a few minutes later Amy’s still grinning. “You’re really happy? Not just saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear?” She asks.

“No, god no. I’m really, really happy for you. You’re getting out of here, out of Roarton and into the world.” His smile softens, “No way you’re getting benched this time around.” Amy takes his hand, clasping it in hers. “So what are you studying?”

“Psychology. Even in my first life I always wanted to know why people do the things they do, how our brains work. Emotion versus logic and all that.” She laughs at the startled look on his face, “Don’t look so surprised, I’m actually pretty smart y’know. I did get into university!” Tapping his nose in admonishment, Amy turns to look out over Roarton, her smile turning wistful. “I’m going to miss you, Kieren Walker. So much.”

“I bet you’ll miss Phillip more.” Kieren jokes, because he’s not ready for goodbyes. However, when Amy turns back to him she looks sheepish.

“Actually, Phil’s coming with me.” Honestly, Kieren’s not surprised, but his expression must show some kind of confusion because Amy’s quick to explain. “It was his idea in the first place, he always did want to get into politics, and you can’t really do that without a degree. After all the trips to visit the campuses and stuff, I was hooked too, so we figured we’d apply together, and what do you know.”

“Wait a minute, trips to visit campuses?” Kieren frowns, slowly putting the pieces together. “Amy, wait, how long have you guys been planning this?”

“A few months?”

“Jesus, Amy. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kieren only feels the tiniest bit betrayed, but it’s still enough to have Amy looking apologetic again.

“We didn’t know if we were going to actually go through with it in the beginning, and even then we figured it was best to wait and see if we actually got accepted.” It makes sense, as much as Kieren doesn’t want to admit it. He frowns down at his hands for a while, pale fingertips toying with the tiny blue petals of the flowers he’s holding.

“I guess you’ll be living on campus or something?” It’s mild enough not to sound like an accusation, but Amy knows what he’s really asking.

“Getting a little flat, actually. We’ve already had the bungalow inspected by a real estate agent to figure out what the leasing price would be.” Something clicks, and Kieren remembers what Jem had said a few days prior.

“That’s why Amir was there.” He says, to which Amy shoots him a quizzical look. “Jem saw him coming out of the bungalow the other day, that’s why he was there.” Amy nods, but Kieren doesn’t say anything else for a while after that.

A part of him is angry that Amy would keep something so important from him, would keep him out and leave him clueless for so long. Another part feels betrayed and, to be honest, jealous, that Amy now has Phillip to share these things with, that Kieren and Simon are no longer the only people in her life. Yet, above all else Kieren feels a kind of bittersweet pride that she’s going after what she wants and finally getting it. The acceptance letter in his hand is heavy, but he can’t begin to imagine how much it means to her, how many times she must have read the creased paper. Kieren tries not to think of his own acceptance letter to the art college in the same city, still folded up with one of Rick’s post cards.

 _Maybe,_ Kieren thinks briefly, _when I’m living again…_

He cuts that thought off before it can go too far.

When he glances up again Amy’s brows are quirked, the look of guilt making Kieren shake himself and smile reassuringly. “I really am happy for you Amy.” He says. “I’m just sad I’m losing my BDFF again.”

“You’ll never lose me, dum-dum.” She says, ruffling his hair and taking back the letter when he offers it. “You’ll just have to settle for twenty minute train trips every other weekend to come see me. I think I’m worth the six quid for a return ticket.” Amy throws him an offering smile, and Kieren returns it.

“Amy Dyer, you’d be worth the fifty pounds it’d cost to get a cab there.” He says. The smile Amy gives him is both an apology and a promise as she leans in to wrap him in another long hug. “Okay, alright. Get off me so I can give you these flowers.” Smirking Amy sits back in her chair, but a look of confusion crosses her face when Kieren begins to delicately separate the individual stems and lay them out before him.

“What happened to giving them to me?” She jokes, though she leans in closer to watch Kieren begin to gently weave the stems. Slowly he twines the flowers together, twisting the thin stems around one another until they begin to form a circle. As he adds more flowers the shape fills out, until finally he holds a ring of tightly woven forget-me-nots.

“I used to make them for Jem when we were little.” Kieren says while he reaches up to place the crown on Amy’s head, adjusting it so the blue of the flowers stands out against her pink skin. When he pulls back Amy’s smile is blinding.

The sky is surprisingly blue for Roarton’s usually dreary weather, so they settle in to enjoy it while they can. Kieren rests his head on Amy’s thigh after a while, choosing to indulge the part of him that wants to be close to her.

“When do you leave?” He asks after a while, eyes shut.

“Three weeks from tomorrow. The semester won’t start for another few days after that, but we need time to move into the new flat and all that.” Kieren nods, the tulle of her skirts making a pleasant scratching noise with the movement. “We’re not taking much of the furniture from the bungalow, though. Phil has an uncle who works at IKEA, so we got heaps of stuff real cheap for the new place.”

“I assume Simon’s already offered our help with reading the ‘choose your own adventure’ instructions?” He says, before something occurs to him. “Speaking of Simon, what’s he going to do when you rent out the bungalow?” Kieren doesn’t even know if Simon has any money, let alone enough to rent a two-bedroom place like that. Sure, he could get a job, but with Simon’s track record in Roarton it wasn’t looking promising. Even with the Give Back Scheme long abandoned, PDS sufferers being hired was rare, most of them either commuting or permanently moving into the city to find work.

Above him Amy is conspicuously quiet.

Glancing up, Kieren immediately recognises the awkward look on Amy’s face for what it is. “Amy, no.”

When Amy says nothing Kieren groans, lets his head thump back against her thigh.

“You haven’t told him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments, critiques, etc. are welcomed and encouraged!
> 
> The poem Simon reads is 'Saying Your Names' by Richard Siken.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy promises Kieren that she’ll tell Simon her plans by the end of the week, giving her three days. So naturally, of all the times in those three days that Amy could tell Simon, she’s doing it just as Kieren arrives on Friday evening.

Letting himself in through the unlocked kitchen door, it’s not until Kieren’s latching it shut that he hears Amy’s raised voice coming from the hallway.

“-not doing it for Phillip, I’m doing it for _me_!” She’s clearly angry, voice just a few decibels off outright yelling. Whatever Simon says is too quiet for Kieren to catch, but Amy’s indignant scoff is clear. “So me being alive has somehow negated every single minute I spent undead, has it?” Kieren creeps into the living room, trying to make out Simon’s low voice. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but really, what else is he going to do?

“Jesus Christ, Simon, I get it! I’m one of _the living_ now, big whoop. But fuck, I want to live my _life_ now that I have the chance! How can you blame me for that?” Standing in the living room now, Kieren inches closer to the hall, secure in the fact that Amy’s voice is further down. Simon must be talking to her from his room.

“I’m not _abandoning_ you, Simon! Or any of the redeemed, for that matter, but we’re coming back. Don’t you get it? The second rising is us coming back, you know that now.” Kieren presses himself to the wall just by the hallway; Simon’s response is still indiscernible.

“Oh, really?” Amy sounds haughty now, must have found a crack in whatever argument Simon’s making. “And what about when _Kieren_ comes back, hmm? Are you going to give him the same lecture when he’s warmed up and off to art school?”

Kieren freezes. For a while now he’s wondered how Simon would deal with him coming back. He always brushed it off with the knowledge that Simon would be alive too, so there would be no need for him to stick to his old ULA ideals, right? Yet…

There’s been silence from down the hall for some time, but Kieren strains his ears, knows it can’t be over. Finally Simon speaks, quiet and resigned; “You’re abandoning the cause, Amy.”

Amy laughs mirthlessly. “What _'cause'_ , Simon? Because if you’re talking about the ULA, you left it long before I did.” Suddenly she’s storming down the hall. Kieren scrambles back from where he’s been listening in, but Amy barely glances at him when she passes. Grabbing her orange coat off the rack by the door, she’s just about to leave when she turns back.

“I’ll stay at Phillip’s tonight.” She snarls, nodding towards the end of the hall, “Simon’s all yours.” By the time Kieren’s opens his mouth to protest the door’s already slamming shut behind her.

Further down the hallway, Simon is hovering in the doorway to his room. He doesn’t even look surprised that Kieren had been listening.

“Been here long?” Simon asks, looking at Kieren’s chest.

“Just for the end of it.” He replies. Simon says nothing.

After watching Simon for a moment, Kieren slowly heads towards him, taking note of the tense line of his shoulders and the violent trembling of his hands. Whether it’s anger or the now frequent tremors, Kieren isn’t sure. Still, when he draws level with Simon he takes his hands lightly, rubs soothing thumbs over pale skin while he waits for Simon to meet his eyes.

Gradually the shakes subside, the slow change making it clear that the cause was more biological than emotional. Kieren lets Simon’s hands slip slowly from his, trailing fingertips over the bones of Simon’s wrists.

“What was all that?” He asks, not bothering to hide the hint of accusation in his voice. From what he’d heard, Simon was being a bit of a twat.

Simon frowns, eyebrows pulling down over still white eyes. “She’s leaving us. Off to university with Phillip.”

“And?” Kieren deadpans. He knows how it feels, the initial sense of loss and betrayal, but he also knows that what he walked in on wasn’t your average ‘friends fighting over change’ kind of argument. The mix of confusion and irritation on Simon’s face only confirms it.

“Amy’s forgotten… she’s abandoning the ULA,” Kieren frowns at the reference, “She’s abandoning the redeemed to go out and play house with the living.” The words are spat out like something sour, making Kieren draw back, frown deepening.

“Yeah, Simon,” He says slowly, “Because she _is_ living. She’s alive.” Kieren doesn’t get a response, just an unhappy shift of Simon’s shoulders. “I don’t understand what the issue is, you haven’t talked about the ULA in months. Why should it matter if she’s ‘abandoning’ them?”

It’s true; Simon hasn’t had any contact with any of his old followers or any other ULA members (at least to Kieren’s knowledge) since Amy’s death. Frankly, the fact that Simon would bring the ULA up at all seems odd, especially considering how obviously he avoided talking about it for the first few weeks after Amy’s death. Then Kieren had just gotten used to it – the posters had come down, the writing on the walls had been painted over, and while Simon still made his own Neurotriptyline, Kieren didn’t think that was a strictly ULA thing.

Across from him Simon shifts restlessly. “Never mind, it’s fine.” He mutters, then turns and heads towards the bed, where he perches on the edge with his elbows on his knees.

“It’s obviously not fine, Simon-”

“It’s nothing, Kieren. Leave it.” Not fooled in the slightest, Kieren follows him and takes a seat by his side, though avoids touching Simon except for the light brush of their legs when the bed dips. He knows there’s more to it than an old, misplaced loyalty, but at times like this it’s easier to let Simon open up of his own accord rather than pushing him for answers.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“She’s renting out the bungalow.” Simon says lowly, looking down at his own fingers as he taps them together one by one. When he doesn’t say anything else Kieren hums quietly, an invitation to go on. “I’ll have to leave Roarton.”

“Wait, _what_?” Kieren exclaims, startled by the frankly drastic conclusion Simon seems to have come to. “Why?”

“I can’t stay here in the bungalow, Kieren, I don’t have the money.”

“Get a job.” Kieren splutters out, only slightly embarrassed by how it sounds. Simon’s mouth quirks into a self-deprecating half-smile at the bluntness, but he shakes his head, glancing up to meet Kieren’s eyes.

“And who’s going to hire me? The B’n’B? Or maybe I can be a janitor at the clinic?” A scowl spreads across Kieren’s face because, try as he might, he knows he can’t refute Simon. It’s hard enough getting a job when you’re PDS, but any ties to the ULA or other extremist activities and there’s no chance.

“Alright, I get it. No job in Roarton. What about in the city?” As expected Simon looks sceptical, but Kieren’s not put off. “I know the commute isn’t exactly ideal, but I heard that people are a lot better about us in the cities than they are here.” The shrug that lifts Simon’s shoulders is so non-committal that Kieren actually has to grit his teeth to bite back his irritation.

Simon deals in absolutes, but usually he can compromise for Kieren. It’s times like this, however – times when Simon doesn’t even seem to want to consider options other than black or white, right or wrong, stay or go – that has Kieren ready to grab Simon and just shake some sense into him. Still, two can play at this game.

“Move in with me then.”

The reaction is instant, Simon’s head whipping up, wide-eyed and startled.

“ _What_?”

“Move in with me. I mean, we’d have to live with my parents for a while, give me time to find a job, then we’d have to find a place I could actually afford, it’d have to be tiny, but I think-” He grins when Simon flaps a hand at him, knowing the sarcasm has made itself known in his voice.

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” Simon says, but there’s a fond little smile on his face. Still, there’s a dullness in his eyes that shouldn’t be there, and he won’t quite meet Kieren’s gaze.

“That’s not what this is about, is it?” Kieren says slowly.

Simon looks back at the floor, nods. His fingers have started to play restlessly along the sides of his knees, tapping out a too-fast rhythm that Kieren can’t follow. Leaning in closer he places a hand over Simons closest one, pausing the anxious movements. Simon knows what it means, lets out a long exhale.

“I don’t exactly have the highest opinion of universities.” He says and, okay, that’s not what Kieren was expecting.

At all.

“You went to university.” Kieren says, confused. Simon had been to university, right? “I mean, you said you had a degree, so I figured..” He trails off when Simon nods, but the confusion doesn’t ebb.

“That’s the point.” He mutters, “I went to university.”

“Don’t you want Amy to get to experience it too?”

The short laugh that escapes Simon is mirthless and resentful, “No. I went straight out of high school, all wide-eyed and whatnot. Everything was going to be great, yeah? The world was going to change into this bright new thing because I was going to be surrounded by intellectuals and studying something I loved. Which it did… for a while.” Something in his expression twists then, goes dark, and suddenly Kieren isn’t sure he wants to know the rest.

“Until then I’d only been able to get my hands on low grade stuff; pot and some ecstasy every now and then. But, god, the things you can get at universities.” Kieren’s stomach drops. “By the end of my second year I think the only time I wasn’t high was when I was actually doing the exams. The guy I was rooming with, Marcus, he dealt just about everything but never used any of it. No, he used to get off on _watching_ the high, seeing other people go up.” Kieren doesn’t like where this is heading, but Simon ploughs on, voice low and dangerous.

“He always got me the good stuff, free of charge. All I had to do was let him be the one to shoot me up and watch.” The surge of hatred and anger that rises in Kieren is all consuming, burning through his veins like he imagines the drugs might have for Simon. The barest notion of someone using Simon like that, exploiting his addiction so that they could get off is so disgusting, so repulsive, that it has Kieren ready to either vomit or punch someone. Beside him Simon has gone very still, but it’s only when Kieren glances down that he realises why.

His hand, the one curled over Simon’s, has balled into a tight fist. Simon watches, expressionless, as Kieren slowly uncurls his stiff fingers.

“Dad wouldn’t come to graduation.” Simon says, quieter now. “Didn’t want mum to either, but she did. Cried at the end and everything.” He pauses, but Kieren knows not to talk, not yet. “She wanted to take me out to dinner, some fancy place in the city… I spent the night doing lines in some guy’s bathroom.” His voice fades near the end, fingers now trembling as they scratch patterns across his jeans.

Kieren has no idea what to do, what to say, because what do you say to that?

What do you say to a man who spent his first life trying to escape a constant, all-encompassing depression only to be dragged deeper into the pit of it every time he tried to climb out? There is nothing to say, really.

Kieren knows it, deep down in the part of him that still feels hollow inside. His own depression had been like the weather; when it was cold it was freezing, so frigid that he knew he’d never feel anything but the numbness again, but then it would be warm, and he’d wonder how he’d ever felt that chill in the first place. Imagining how Simon must have felt, living in that constant winter, breaks Kieren’s heart.

He squeezes Simon’s hand but stays silent. Some things are better dealt with without words.

After what feels like an eternity Simon’s head, previously bowed, lifts and he stares directly at the wall across from him. The hand in Kieren’s shifts just enough to return the pressure as Simon sniffs once then exhales.

“I can’t let that happen to her, Kieren.” He says quietly.

“It won’t.” Simon’s head snaps up, his confused gaze fixing on Kieren, “Simon, what you had to- the shit you went through was _horrible_. But Amy’s not going to make your mistakes-”

The second the words leave Kieren’s mouth he regrets them, guilt flooding like ice through his veins. Simon’s lip curls and he looks back down at his hands. “Fuck, Simon, I mean…” Kieren tires, but the damage is done, clear in the sharp slope of Simon’s shoulders.

“No, you’re right. She’s better than that, she-”

“ _No_ , Simon.” Kieren’s unsure of how he knows it will work, but it does. The authoritative tone of his voice has Simon looking up immediately; seemingly ready to hang on to Kieren’s every word.

 _Make it count, Walker,_ Kieren thinks.

“No one deserves what you dealt with, Simon. _No one_.” He puts as much emphasis on the words as possible without actually yelling, “But it won’t happen to Amy. She can look out for herself, we both know that. We’ll visit her heaps, and she’ll have Phil.” The look on Simon’s face is dark and unsure, but Kieren cups his cheek, makes him meet his eyes. “She’ll be alright, Simon. She’ll be _happy_.”

For a while Simon doesn’t say anything, just looks at Kieren with that crease between his dark brows. It’s only as Kieren’s about to speak that Simon seems to deflate, air whooshing out of him in a long exhale, tense body going loose. Simon’s lips quirk but don’t really form a smile. It’s not something easily solved, Kieren knows, but he’s not sure what else to do.

“Simon, I’m just as scared of losing her as you are. I mean, I’ve had to watch her go twice now, and it doesn’t get any easier.” Kieren turns to Simon, waits for him to meet his eyes. “But we can’t stop her from living her life. We just have to look after her along the way.” He laughs then, soft and sarcastic, “And oddly enough I don’t think yelling at her in her own house is really going to help with that.”

“Yeah,” He says, “You… you’re right.”

Kieren knows it’s all he’ll get from Simon on the matter for the time being, so he doesn’t push for more. Instead he stands up and strips down to just his pants, pulls Simon up to undress him too. There’s nothing sexual to it, not heat or intent, but Kieren craves the cool touch of Simon’s skin under his, wants to press them as close together as possible. Simon’s story swirls like black bile in his mind so Kieren presses tiny kisses to the track marks littered like constellations across Simon’s veins as they’re revealed. He doesn’t flinch away like he used to but his white eyes are pensive and focussed down on Kieren when he glances up, lips brushing the mark in the crook of Simon’s elbow.

It’s barely seven but somehow Kieren feels tired as he guides Simon into the bed and under the covers, drawing him close. There’s an exhaustion that comes with undeath – energy isn’t required the same way it used to be, no calories to burn or kilojoules to keep you going. As he’s been changing the fatigue only seems to be worsening, coming in sudden, crushing bouts that disappear almost as quickly as they arrive. Kieren’s arms feel pleasantly heavy around Simon’s waist.

When they’re spooned together Kieren touches his lips gently to the unhealed bullet wound on Simon’s back. Simon flinches a little but doesn’t protest, lets Kieren slide skinny arms up and around his chest, lets him tangle their legs together. A thought occurs to Kieren then, something small and niggling at the back of his head, but he noses at the fine hairs on the nape of Simon’s neck before he says anything.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” He breathes against Simon’s skin, “But what are we going to do when we’re back? Alive, that is?”

Simon breathes out, then… nothing.

Silence slowly stretches between them, ballooning and crushing and smothering them all at once. Kieren wonders, sometimes, what being alive will mean to them, to their relationship. Their… whatever it is, it’s something borne of their condition, the circumstances of their undeath bringing them together and giving them common ground. Kieren wonders if, were he alive, he would have given Simon a second look.

Track-marked, spaced-out, drug-addicted Simon. With the shaggy hair and unkempt clothes he had in a photograph Kieren found tucked into one of Simon’s shirts weeks ago. Would Kieren have watched him? Would Kieren have wanted him?

 _No,_ Kieren’s mind whispers, _you wouldn’t._

Kieren had loved Rick when he was alive, in the way an eighteen year old boy loves their closeted, lopsided-grinning best friend. But in that way he had loved pretty things, pure things. Things that weren’t tarnished or ruined, even if the only thing about them that shone was the gold leaf clinging to their porcelain exterior.

No, Kieren would not have loved Simon when he was alive. Simon is a first edition T.S. Elliot, frayed and worn and water-stained, but hiding poetry inside his hollowed-out chest. It took dying for Kieren to realise that love is about learning someone, not seeing them.

“I don’t know.” Simon says quietly after what could have been hours, breaking Kieren from his thoughts.

“What?”

Rolling over in Kieren’s arms, Simon presses closer, wrapping an arm around him to run fingertips along his, smooth, undamaged back. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when we come back.” The edge of fear in his voice in unmistakable.

Kieren pulls Simon closer, lays a kiss on his forehead and is silent.

 

* * *

 

“Kieren.”

Kieren blinks awake, eyes clearing slowly.

“Kieren, I…” The barely suppressed panic in Simon’s voice has Kieren alert in seconds, lurching up and peering around the dark room. The tiny alarm clock by the bed says it’s just going on two am. Simon’s standing at the side of the bed, a hand pressed to his lower face while the other holds his pillow. He looks terrified.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Kieren asks, scrambling across the mattress towards Simon. When he moves to touch Simon flinches back. “Simon, what’s happened?”

Simon hesitates, glancing between the pillow and Kieren. “I’m not- it’s the first time this has happened.” As he says it he lowers the hand over his face, revealing the mess of black smeared across his nose and lips.

It looks terrible.

The sheer amount of black gunk makes it look like Simon has taken a hit to the nose, the same stuff staining the pillow where Kieren glances down at it in Simon’s hand. Despite the fact that Kieren knows what it is, he can’t help the horrible, cold feeling in his stomach at the sight. He tries not to think of Blue Oblivion.

“It’s okay, it’s fine.” He assures, reaching out and rubbing Simon’s arms gently when he doesn’t back away again. Simon looks like he’s trying to hold off a panic attack so Kieren takes the pillow from him and wrenches off the pillowcase. Clambering off the bed he puts his hand in Simon’s, the one not covered in gunk, and leads him to the bathroom, flicking on the light. “Sit up there.” He instructs, gesturing to the vanity. Simon looks too anxious to argue, lifting himself onto the low bench so that Kieren can stand between his knees.

Pulling a bunch of tissues from the other side of the sink, Kieren immediately goes to work cleaning the worst of the black off Simon’s face. His nosebleed seems to have stopped, no fresh fluid adding to what is already there. Once the sticky, coagulated mess is gone Kieren wets a dark cloth and lifts it to remove the last stains from Simon’s upper lip. Simon flinches sharply when the it touches his skin.

“Sorry,” he mutters, blinking and leaning back in for Kieren. “It’s cold.” Kieren shrugs and nods, swiping the damp cloth over Simon’s lip, until-

“Wait, _what?”_

Simon raises a quizzical brow. “The cloth.” He says, “It’s cold.” Already a slow grin is beginning to spread across Kieren’s face but Simon continues to look befuddled.

“Simon, you can feel it.” Kieren says, “You can _feel_ that it’s cold!” He laughs. Simon’s face changes, a hesitant smile twitching at his lips to mirror Kieren’s. “Wait, can you feel this?” Kieren says in a rush, pressing his palm down on Simon’s cold thigh. Their difference in temperature shouldn’t be that much, with Kieren only actually having started to warm up recently, but after a moment Simon nods slowly.

“Yeah,” He says tentatively, placing a hand over Kieren’s and pressing it down a little harder. “It’s not that… clear, but it’s there.” The washcloth lays forgotten on the vanity beside them. It’s thrilling, Simon’s newfound sensitivity, and maybe it’s because it’s late but Kieren’s mind is already wandering to far less innocent ways to explore it.

“How about this?” Kieren murmurs, already leaning in to lick a warm stripe up Simon’s neck and press a kiss under his ear. The way Simon jolts under him is a clear enough answer, the breathed ‘yes’ only confirming it. With a grin Kieren begins to lick and suck at Simon’s neck, the hand still resting on his thigh gripping a little tighter. He blows cool air over Simon’s throat and the wet lines there, loving the way it makes Simon shiver.

The anxiety that had Simon so tense minutes ago has almost totally dissipated, his shoulders slouched comfortably and legs spread on either side of Kieren. Glancing up, Kieren would have to be blind to miss the hunger in Simon’s eyes. He hums softly, running his hands up Simon’s thighs and slipping the tips of his index and middle fingers under his boxers. Simon breathes slowly through his nose.

There’s a small but growing tent in Simon’s pants begging for Kieren’s touch, but he hesitates. Now probably isn’t the best time to bring it up. But god, he wants to touch Simon, wants to push him over the edge again and again, and after last time…

Kieren steels himself, draws back a little.

“I’d like you to have a proper safeword.” He says, leaning back far enough to meet Simon’s eyes, which have widened slightly. “After what happened I’d be much more comfortable if you and I both have safewords.”

The turn in conversation has Simon frowning. “I don’t need-”

“ _I_ need it, Simon.” Kieren interrupts, “Honestly we should have had them from the start, but I need to know that you have a safeword and that you’ll use it now. I need to know I can trust you to recognise you limits during scenes and tell me. Otherwise this isn’t going to work.”

Simon’s brow is furrowed, eyes downcast, and he’s quiet for a long time. Drawing a hand away from Simon’s thigh, Kieren reaches up to run fingertips along the angle of his jaw. Just as Kieren’s about to emphasise how non-negotiable this is, Simon speaks up.

“Yeats.” Kieren blinks owlishly and Simon’s eyes flitter away. “That’s going to be my safeword,” He murmurs, “Yeats.”

“Okay. Mine’s France.” Kieren cups Simon’s jaw, tilts his face up until their eyes meet. “Thank you, Simon.” He can’t wait until Simon can blush again, imagines a flush would go nicely with the bashful look on Simon’s face. “You’re so good for me.” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Simon’s mouth.

Still rubbing a thumb over Simon’s cheek, Kieren slips his other hand further up the leg of Simon’s boxers, tracing fingertips over the crease between thigh and groin. Simon inhales sharply and shifts, but doesn’t say anything. Kieren smiles.

_Good boy._

“I’d like to push you tonight, okay?” He says, nosing at Simon’s jaw, breath hot on his neck. “You’re going to come twice from just my hand, but I’m not going to stop in between. If it’s too much and you want me to back off use yellow. If you want me to stop, use red or your safeword and I _will_ stop, no matter what.” Simon nods quickly, but it seems to be out of eagerness rather than recklessness. Kieren knows not to ask something like this in the heat of the moment, so before they begin he adds; “Also, I’d like to call you ‘good boy’, if that’s okay. I know you don’t like name calling, but if-”

“Yes.” Simon says instantly.

Kieren pulls back to meet his eyes, looking for any hints of doubt. “Are you sure? You don’t have to say yes just because I’m into it.”

Simon nods again. “Please.”

He watches Simon again for a long time, testing for any uncertainty but finding none. “Alright.”

The hand at Simon’s jaw slips up into his hair, gripping just hard enough to tilt his head back, exposing his throat. Meanwhile Kieren draws his other hand out of Simon’s pants, palming his erection through the thin material of his boxers. Shuddering, Simon pushes his hips up into the touch, but Kieren tugs his hair sharply in warning. Despite the way his thighs tense, Simon keeps himself still while Kieren rubs him to full hardness.

“Colour?” Kieren asks.

“Green.” Simon replies breathily, Kieren thumbing at the head of his cock through the material of his shorts, the sensation not entirely satisfying judging by Simon’s tiny grunts. Smiling, Kieren leans in to nip at Simon’s neck before tugging at the waistband of his boxers, letting it snap back against his hips.

“Off.”

Hastily Simon shucks his pants, leaning back to brace his shoulders against the tiled wall behind him as he lifts his hips. Kieren steps back from between his legs to let him remove the boxers completely, then quickly moves back in, staying as close to Simon as possible. He reaches around to grip Simon’s ass, pulling him to the edge of the porcelain vanity so that his flushed cock is caught between them. Simon tries to hold back a bitten-off noise when his cockhead brushes Kieren’s navel.

“Don’t do that.” Kieren says, reaching down to brush just the tip of his index finger over the slit. Simon bites his lip. “No, I want to hear you.” Kieren drags his thumbnail lightly under the head, revelling in the soft grunt Simon lets out. “I want everything, okay?” As he talks he trails fingertips down the length of Simon’s cock, applying just enough pressure to tease. When Kieren moves back up to make a tight circle around the head of Simon’s cock with just his thumb and index finger Simon lets out a proper groan.

“Good boy.” Kieren says softly.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Simon whispers, unable to control the way his cock twitches in Kieren’s hand.

“You like that? God, Simon, you’re so hot, you don’t even know.” Then Kieren leans in and begins to lick at Simon’s neck again, working just the head of his cock in short, sharp strokes. He toys with Simon’s foreskin a little, pulling it up and stroking at it with his thumb, then drawing it back and rubbing at Simon’s frenulum. Breath hitching, Simon leans into the touch minutely, but Kieren lets him get away with it for now. With his new ability to feel heat and cold Simon is more sensitive than usual, his small moans already rising in pitch. Kieren draws back from where he’s been sucking at the base of Simon’s neck, tightens his hand briefly on Simon’s cock.

Pulling away, he grabs a small bottle of lube from the cabinet behind the mirror, warming some in his hand before returning to lightly stroking Simon’s cock. The slick glide of his hand over Simon’s flesh must be good, because it has Simon moaning low in his throat.

“I bet you’d love me to suck you off right now,” Kieren muses, tightening his fist around Simon. “Just get on my knees and swallow you down. Let you fuck my mouth.”

Lust flashes in Simon’s eyes, which stay locked on Kieren’s as he moans lowly. Kieren smirks. He hasn’t forgotten Simon’s request for dirty talk.

“Or maybe you’d prefer my fingers in you, working you open for my cock. Not that I’d give it to you, not unless you’d been good for me.” He continues, finally fisting Simon’s cock tightly as he works him at a steady pace. “Maybe I’d have you come like that, desperate and whining while you fuck yourself on just my fingers. You could easily come like that; I’ve seen you do it before.”

The high noise that escapes Simon has Kieren acutely aware of his own cock, hard in his dark boxer briefs. He reaches down with his other hand and gives himself a few clumsy jerks to stave off the ache, but doesn’t falter where he’s pumping Simon. Simon licks his lips eagerly as he watches, lets his eyes linger on the bulge in Kieren’s pants.

“Yeah.” Simon mutters, almost to himself.

Kieren smirks, using Simon’s momentary distraction to surprise him as he leans in to suck at a nipple. Simon’s whole body jerks as a harsh gasp escapes him, the movement earning him Kieren’s teeth. He grazes them over Simon’s nipple, biting down lightly and tugging. Again Simon’s hips jolt involuntarily, so Kieren squeezes sharply at the base of his cock, warning him. The hand that is still gripping Simon’s ass moves around, fingertips dipping just between his cheeks.

“How about clamps?” Kieren mutters thoughtfully when he gives Simon’s nipple a final lick, nipping across his sternum to the other one. “We should get you some clamps. They’d look great and I’m sure they’d feel amazing given how sensitive you are.” He bites down on Simon’s other nipple, timing it perfectly to coincide with a sharp twist of his wrist over Simon’s cockhead. Simon’s breath hitches sharply. The fine tremor that has started up in his thighs are a clear indication of how close he is already, but Kieren doesn’t hold back, knows what he wants. He smirks around the nipple between his teeth before slowly kissing down Simon’s chest to his abdomen.

“Next time I think I’ll rim you. Blindfold you and eat you out until you’re sobbing from it, all worked up and restless.” The idea is clearly a favourite, because Simon tenses, stomach muscles quivering under Kieren’s lips as he keeps moving down. “I’d have you on your knees, face in the pillows. Keep my hands on your thighs so I can feel how they tremble when I put my tongue on you.” Kieren’s almost bent double, the head of Simon’s cock nearly brushing his throat as he bites across Simon’s hips. Hips which are now pushing up of their own accord, Simon unable to keep them down, just like the continuous moans slipping from his lips.

“Would you like that Simon?” Then, when the only reply he gets is a high whine, “Answer me.”

“Yes, god, yes.” Simon stutters out, breath hitching whenever Kieren slips a thumb along his slit. “Anything you want, anything you’ll give me.” Even as he says it Simon is squeezing his eyes shut, hands balled into fists on the porcelain vanity, trying to stave off his orgasm.

Kieren rewards him with a low “Good boy.” and sucks just the head of his cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks.

With a sharp cry and a shudder Simon comes, cock pulsing in Kieren’s hand and between his lips. He pulls his mouth away quickly but continues to stroke Simon as his orgasm rips through him, loving the way he trembles with waves of pleasure. Feeling the ache of his own erection, Kieren pushes his other hand into his shorts for a few strokes, taking the edge off as hurriedly as possible.

As the aftershocks begin to slow Simon starts to make small, unhappy noises, trying instinctively to pull his hips away while Kieren continues to pump his purple flushed cock. The ongoing stimulation to Simon’s oversensitive body can’t be comfortable but Kieren pushes him, tightening his grip and twisting his wrist.

“Colour?”

Simon doesn’t reply, eyes still shut while his body curves in on itself, stomach muscles jumping as he arcs forward. The whines falling from his open mouth are growing softer, but no less frequent, and for the barest moment Kieren doubts.

“Simon, what’s your colour?” He repeats, loosening his grip on Simon’s cock just a fraction. When Simon still doesn’t reply Kieren gets ready to stop.

“Gr-green.”

It’s broken and hitching but the word is there, hanging heavy in the heated air between them. Simon manages to open his eyes, breathing still laboured, to look up at Kieren through dark lashes with such total devotion that Kieren doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Good boy.” He says, because it seems like the only thing to say. Simon’s hips buck sharply and he makes a pained noise but his head tips back, baring his throat to Kieren; evidence of submission if Kieren’s ever seen it.

The slide of Kieren’s hand over his cock is growing rougher and Simon’s legs have begun to twitch with every other stroke. If Kieren stops Simon will go soft, his erection only maintained by the constant stimulation. Kieren reaches over to grab the lube, drizzling some directly onto the head of Simon’s cock. Simon whines noisily at the sudden cold but Kieren quickly collects the fluid in his hand and runs it the length of Simon’s erection, working hard to prevent any chafing. The only thanks he gets from Simon is a shudder and a hitched breath, but it’s enough.

Stroking Simon smooth and quick again, Kieren presses biting kisses to his jaw. The way Simon gasps for each breath is verging on the edge of sobs, so Kieren pushes him harder, increasing his pace and tightening his fist.

“I should plug you up one day and take you out somewhere.” Kieren says as he squeezes the head of Simon’s cock, “Then I could fuck you whenever, wherever I want, you’d always be open for me. We could go back to Dionysus, I could fuck you in the dressing room, in front of the mirror so you can see how hot you are like this.”

Simon’s whole body is wracked with shivers now, muscles twitching as Kieren continues to pump his overstimulated cock. The noises he’s making are downright sinful, high keens with every stroke of Kieren’s hand over his slick flesh. Still, he manages to raise one hand from where it’s scrabbling at the vanity and take a crushing grip of Kieren’s bicep. For a moment Kieren thinks Simon’s going to push him away but he only continues to moan, mouth open and wet as he tips his head back further, eyes screwed shut.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Kieren groans, free hand roaming from Simon’s chest, to hip, to thigh. “God, when we can again, when we’re alive, I’m going to mark you up everywhere.”

The choked whimper Simon lets out sends a bolt of heat through Kieren directly to his cock, and he can’t help but rut against the edge of the vanity. It’s not exactly comfortable but he aches with need to get off, desire burning hot and insistent in his balls. He pumps Simon still faster, rougher.

“Fuck, Simon, I’m going to cover you in hickeys.” He gasps, leaning in again to bite at Simon’s throat while his hand grows demanding. “I’m going to leave bruises on your – _fuck_ – on your hips from holding on while I fuck you.”

Simon’s whines have finally shifted to sobs, thighs spasming and hips jolting, his grip on Kieren’s arm only growing tighter. Drawing back with a final sharp bite under Simon’s jaw, Kieren only needs a quick glance to see the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks.

“God, Simon, you’re so good for me, so good.” He grits out, still humping the edge of the vanity as he watches fresh tears join those already shining on Simon’s face. “ _Fuck,_ Simon, I can’t wait to come inside you. Can’t wait to – _oh, shit_ – to fill you up and watch it trickle out of you. You’d let me plug you up, wouldn’t you?” Simon nods feebly even as he cries, body overloading with pleasure. “Fuck, of course you would, you’d let me come down your throat and all over your face as well, you’re such a _good boy_.”

Then Kieren catches his lips in a biting, bruising kiss and Simon comes apart, shaking violently and sobbing even as he tries to kiss back.

Kieren keeps stroking him until Simon’s physically spent, body wracked with tremors and whimpering with every touch, too tired to pull away. Then he finally lets Simon go, shoving his own lube-slick hand into his shorts and jerking himself the half-dozen times it takes for him to come. When he does it hits him like a truck, body curving in and he presses his face into Simon’s neck to gasp out his release. Simon’s hiccoughing sobs, which are slowly dying down, are all he focuses on through the aftershocks.

After a few long, steady breaths, Kieren rights himself, taking check of Simon. There are still tears streaking his face and keeping his eyes glassy. Clearly still in subspace, Simon does little more than grunt when Kieren uses the clean side of the cloth from earlier to wash off the remaining lube. Dumping the cloth in the sink, Kieren begins massaging Simon’s thighs before moving slowly to his arms and shoulders, enjoying Simon pliant against him.

Almost fifteen minutes has passed by the time he’s worked all the lingering tension from Simon’s muscles. Glancing up Kieren realises that Simon’s stopped crying and he gently wipes the tear tracks from his face. Simon blinks a little but takes a moment to focus on Kieren’s face.

“Do you need anything?” Kieren asks softly, voice a little hoarse from talking for so long. Again Simon’s slow to respond but when he does it’s only to lean forward for a kiss. It’s soft and chaste, unlike the desperate kiss from before, Kieren dipping his tongue into Simon’s mouth and licking lightly along his dry lips. He wants to offer Simon water, but can’t.

When they finally separate Simon smiles tiredly at Kieren. Returning the expression, Kieren wraps slender arms around Simon and holds him for a moment before taking his hands and guiding him to stand. Kieren crouches to help Simon back into his boxers, then turns off the light and leads him back to bed.

Bundling Simon under the blankets and pressing up close to his back, Kieren drapes an arm over Simon’s hip and expects him to fall asleep almost instantly. However, though Simon’s breathing is even and steady after a few minutes he speaks up, voice still a little slurred.

“All those things you said,” He begins, barely a whisper, “Will you really do them?”

Kieren hears the note of hope, smiles into Simon’s hair in the dark. “Only if you want me to.”

Simon just hums happily and presses closer into Kieren’s arms.

 

* * *

 

When they wake up again at nine Kieren makes good on one of his promises and fingers Simon until he’s begging to come.

There’s an old tie wrapped around Simon’s eyes, the best blindfold they have for the time being and Kieren has one hand gripping firmly at the base of Simon’s cock, keeping him from coming. Lube trickles messily from Simon’s slick hole, his legs bent up and out to give Kieren the best view as he works two fingers slowly in and out of Simon’s body.

“You’re such a good boy, Simon, so needy for me.” Kieren says, leaning in to suck at Simon’s inner thigh while he twists his fingers, rubbing them against Simon’s prostate. Simon lurches, hips jerking.

“Do you want to come, Simon?” He asks lowly, receiving a shaky nod. “Then ask.”

Simon shivers finely, back arching off the bed while his fingers twist in the sheets. “Please, Kieren. Please, want to- I need to come, please.” It’s the desperation of the final plea that wins Kieren over, has him releasing his hold on Simon’s cock to pump it firmly. He thrusts his fingers in sharply and Simon’s coming, moaning long and loud.

After a few moments of shuddering Kieren pulls his fingers away, wiping them on the sheets before stroking his own cock a few times. Still panting, Simon goes easily when Kieren manoeuvres him onto the floor, pushing him to his knees at the edge of the bed. Kieren scoots forward, planting a foot either side of Simon’s thighs and taking a fistful of his hair, careful not to dislodge the blindfold. Almost instinctively Simon lets his mouth fall open, lips wet and swollen from where he’s bitten them.

“Colour?” Kieren asks even as he takes his own cock in hand.

“Green.” Simon replies and Kieren draws him down and onto his cock. It’s perfect, the slick pressure of Simon’s mouth, and Kieren brings his other hand up to Simon’s face, tracing the stretch of his lips. For a few minutes Simon bobs and sucks, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around the head, Kieren shivering in pleasure. Still, it’s not quite enough, and after a moment he pulls Simon back gently by the hair.

“I’d like to fuck your mouth.” He says quietly, thumb still trailing over Simon’s slick lips. Simon sucks the digit into his mouth and nods. “I need your colour.” Kieren insists lowly.

Letting Kieren’s thumb go with a lewd pop, Simon breathes out a husky “Green.” before opening his mouth wide and leaning back in. Kieren moans, can’t help it, and pushes into that tight wetness again, letting his hand join the other in Simon’s hair. At first he simply uses that grip to push and pull Simon, bobbing his head up and down while he sucks fiercely, but as Kieren’s orgasm starts to build he needs more.

Lifting his hips a little he begins to thrust into Simon’s mouth, thanking their undead state for Simon’s complete lack of gag reflex. For his part Simon only moans around Kieren’s cock, the vibrations drawing a matching noise from Kieren, and angles his head to better open his throat.

“Oh, _good boy_ , fuck.” Kieren gasps, loving the perfect tightness of Simon’s throat around the head of his cock as he thrusts desperately into his mouth. Doing his best to swallow around Kieren, Simon pays no attention to the trails of saliva dripping down his chin.

It’s messy and rough and perfect, and within minutes Kieren is coming, the force of it overwhelming. He feels dizzy with it, sinking back into the bed even as Simon laps at his softening cock, ever the eager sub. Yet, somehow the sensation seems stronger than usual. All of Kieren’s limbs are suddenly heavy as opposed to the lightness he usually feels after coming and from the floor he vaguely hears Simon say his name.

Kieren doesn’t realise there’s something wrong until the world begins to tilt and blackness overtakes his vision.

 

* * *

 

When Kieren opens his eyes again it’s to Amy’s worried face about an inch from his. He starts, almost smashing his forehead against hers but she leans back just in time, grinning.

“Welcome back, Churchill!” She jibes, prodding Kieren in the side even as she passes him a bucket. The words barely register at first, Kieren’s eyes stinging even in the dim light of the room, the bedspread feeling too rough against his fingertips. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to be ill, so he settles the bucket on the bed beside him, pushing himself up until he’s sitting back against the pillows. Frowning, he glances around the room.

“What… happened?” Kieren asks slowly, turning back to where Amy’s perched beside him.

“You passed out. It no big deal, all part of coming back.” She reassures, a tender hand patting at his shoulder.

“Oh.” He replies, head throbbing a little as he tries to remember what had happened.

“Scared the life out of dear old Simon though, I though he was going to kick the bucket again when he called me.”

At the mention of Simon everything floods back. Cold dread sinks through Kieren’s gut, and he grabs for the bucket.

_You passed out during a scene._

He can remember pushing into Simon’s mouth, remembers the blindfold and Simon’s happy noises from where he knelt. Simon had to have still been in subspace when Kieren blacked out.

_And then what?_

The implications stab at Kieren like icicles, cold and sharp in his chest. He can already imagine it; Simon blindfolded on his knees, spaced out and blissful when suddenly his dom stops responding, stops moving. God, he must have thought it was part of the scene at first, maybe thought he was being punished with silence.

 _How long did he wait?_   _How long was Simon on his knees, in the dark, before he realised something was wrong?_

“Fuck.” Kieren mutters, ignoring Amy when she shoots him a concerned look. He knows he can’t throw up, has nothing in his stomach to regurgitate but he still leans over the bucket, clutching it like a lifeline. Screwing his eyes shut, Kieren tries not to think of how Simon’s hands might have trembled as he pulled off the blindfold, terrified that he may have been breaking the rules.

The fabric of Kieren’s hoodie feels scratchy and horrible against his skin, his whole body hypersensitive while he panics, but-

It’s not his hoodie.

Kieren glances down to see that he’s dressed in one of Simon’s sweaters, sleeves rolled to accommodate for his shorter arms, and a pair of track pants.

Simon had dressed him.

Even as he had called Amy in a panic, Simon had taken the time to dress Kieren, cover him up and protect his modesty while he was passed out and failing Simon. A new wave of horror washes over Kieren, making him gasp into the bucket.

He’s meant to be the one looking after Simon, has Simon’s trust to take care of him. Kieren knows he can’t have controlled the blackout, but it doesn’t stop the waves of guilt from crashing into him. God knows how long Simon had gone without aftercare.

Fighting against his urge to vomit or cry, Kieren composes himself for long enough to ask Amy, “How long was I out?”

She looks concerned at his clearly panicked reaction, not aware of its real cause. “Probably about twenty, thirty minutes, if you include the time it took me to get here.” She says, rubbing Kieren’s calf soothingly.

_Fuck._

“But it’s okay, this is totally normal. It only happened to me once, so I probably wouldn’t bet on you blacking out again.” Amy keeps talking, recounting the symptoms of her revival and Kieren lets it wash over him while he does his best to breathe normally again. He feels sick and his head is throbbing with pain, which is new, but it’s the dread curling in his gut that’s really bothering him. Not that he could have done anything about passing out but still he feels guilt like shards of glass in his chest. It’s only when there’s a quiet knock on the door that he looks up, eyes locking instantly on Simon.

There’s a strange expression on his face, something Kieren can’t quite identify. He’s saying something to Amy, but Kieren’s too busy checking him over for any visible signs of… well, anything, to pay attention. If it weren’t for the way Simon avoids his eyes, Kieren could almost believe everything was okay.

“Simon.” He calls out meekly, painfully aware of the way Simon tenses a little. Turning his head towards Kieren, Simon still only brings his eyes as close as Kieren’s shoulder. It’s wrong, so wrong, and the guilt that wells in Kieren is crushing. “Simon, please.” He tries, one hand weakly patting the bed beside him.

For all his eloquence and persuasion, Simon simply presses closer to the doorframe and gestures back towards the rest of the house. “I- I have to, uh…”

Then he’s gone, tense shoulders disappearing into the hallway.

Kieren tries to get up to follow him, to beg forgiveness, but dizziness overwhelms him and he slumps back into the pillows. His head knocks against the headboard, making Amy flinch, but Kieren doesn’t mind the stab of pain. They sit together in uncomfortable silence for a while, something foreign and new between his and Amy, with only the sound of wind outside to keep them company.

“Did you two fight or…?” Amy begins after a while, but Kieren closes his eyes, lets out a shuddering breath. Pressing her mouth into a sad line, a tiny crease forms between Amy’s brows and she moves close enough to wrap an arm around Kieren’s shoulder. They stay like that for an age.

When Kieren can finally stand without feeling faint she offers to walk him home, but he convinces her he’ll be fine on his own.

Simon’s nowhere to be found when Kieren leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amy's reference to Churchill is because he was a narcoleptic, among other things. As always comments are super appreciated and I love any and all feedback!
> 
> Also at this point I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, as I've just started my final exams and have hardly any time to write fic at the moment. Hopefully the break won't be too long, but I'll try to keep you all updated.


	6. Chapter 6

When Kieren arrives at the bungalow the next morning it’s empty.

He unlocks the door with the spare key Amy leaves under a one-armed garden gnome and lets himself in, hoping that maybe the silence means Simon is still in bed. When he peers into Simon’s room it holds only a perfectly made bed. Going back into the kitchen Kieren finds a note from Amy, clearly mean for Simon.

_‘At Phillip’s till lunch – cheer up and go see Kieren!’_

Kieren can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips as he reads it, but the guilt is quick to follow, sharp and jagged in his throat. He puts the note back on the counter and leaves.

Wandering back through Roarton, he’s unsure of where to go or what to do. It’s only now feeling Simon’s absence that makes him realise just how much time they spend together. Simon’s disappearance from the bungalow, from Kieren’s side, is off-putting to say the least.

The last time Simon had vanished it had been for days, only for him to pop back up in time to take a bullet for Kieren. He’d claimed that he had been in the city to see an old friend but hadn’t been keen on giving details, so Kieren can’t search for him there even if he wants to. Then again, Simon hasn’t even been gone a whole day yet – he could just be avoiding Kieren. Somehow the thought doesn’t make Kieren feel any better.

He goes by the cemetery, to visit Rick he tells himself. There’s an undeniable sense of disappointment that wells in his chest when there’s no dark, slop-shouldered figure loitering by any of the graves. He passes by the legion but isn’t surprised when it’s locked up and empty.

Kieren doesn’t know where else to look, if he even should be looking. For a moment he considers dropping in at the Wilson’s and asking Amy if she knows where Simon is, but quickly dismisses the idea. Asking Amy would probably involve having to tell Amy why Simon’s avoiding him, and that’s really not something Kieren’s up for right now. He hasn’t blacked out again but his head still throbs a little from time to time. Other than that and the persistent tremors that kept shaking him from sleep last night, Kieren feels physically okay.

Emotionally, not so much.

He’s meandering along the perimeter fence, fingers tapping along the metal links, when someone grabs him from behind. Immediately Kieren goes into fight or flight mode, struggling against the narrow arms around his chest for mere moments before they disappear.

“Relax Houdini.” Comes a laughing voice, and Kieren knows who it is immediately.

“Amy, you can’t _do that_!” He exclaims, whirling to find her grinning, “I thought you were Gary or someone.” Her face drops a little at that, and she comes in for a proper hug, wrapping her arms around Kieren’s shoulders and pressing her face to his neck.

“Sorry.” She says, one hand brushing the back of Kieren’s neck. The injection mark on her back has closed over and healed, the skin smooth and pink when Kieren had glimpsed it once. Kieren sighs heavily but takes his hands out of his pockets to wrap them around her narrow frame. When they pull away Amy’s smiling again, but it’s a little more controlled. “Saw you from the top of the hill, I thought you’d be at the bungalow with Simon this time of day.” She teases, but it twists uncomfortably in Kieren’s gut and he frowns down at his boots. There’s mud on the toe of the left one.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t there, so I guess not.” Kieren’s aware of the bitterness in his voice. Beside him Amy groans long-sufferingly.

“That boy is getting strong words when I see him.” She says, watching as Kieren leans down to rub the mud off his boot. “ _Go see Kieren, talk it out_ , I tell him, but does he listen? No. Trouble in paradise isn’t fixed by hiding in the palm trees.” The last part is grumbled, but Kieren latches onto it.

“Did Simon say something was wrong?” The look Amy gives him is incredulous.

“I don’t need anyone to tell me when my two best undead buddies are having _romantic issues_. Not that Simon would say anything anyway.” She says, then gentler, “Actually, Simon didn’t want to talk, at all, about anything. He’s barely said a word since you left yesterday.”

Kieren feels sick but says nothing.

“Hey, if it’s messing you guys up like this you should talk about whatever it is that’s happened. Fighting is normal, especially in the first few months of a relationship.” She consoles, but Kieren only scoffs.

“We didn’t fight.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing I can tell you about.”

 _“Kieren Walker,”_ Amy begins, but he turns to her and cuts her off.

“No, seriously Amy. I can’t tell you, and even if I could you wouldn’t want to know.” Kieren isn’t sure if the hurt on Amy’s face is from his biting tone or the fact that he’s keeping something from her.

Not that he could tell her about it anyway. Telling anyone about Simon’s submission would be a massive breach of privacy, and Kieren doesn’t want to add ‘breaking my sub’s trust’ to ‘failing to care for him’. He watches a beetle cling to the metal fence and avoids Amy’s eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Wilson’s?” Kieren says a little too bluntly. He regrets it immediately but knows it’s the only way Amy’s going to leave him alone any time soon. Amy’s frown turns from sad to disappointed, but never angry.

“Talk to your boyfriend, Kieren.” She says sharply, “You two are emotionally constipated enough without all this avoiding each other bullshit.” With that she’s stalking away in the opposite direction, Kieren not bothering to call out that he’s not the one doing the avoiding. He knows she’ll forgive him, but it doesn’t make him feel any better about being an ass.

Once Amy’s figure is a little orange spot in the distance Kieren begins to walk, trudging his way into town. He keeps an eye out for a dark head of hair and a dumb jumper, somehow managing to grow even more morose when he doesn’t see them. Walking aimlessly, Kieren’s thoughts return again and again to the look on Simon’s face the day before no matter how hard he tries to think of anything else.

Every time he thinks about Simon a fresh wave of guilt washes over him, quiet anger churning in his gut underneath it all. Kieren had left his sub during a scene. Sure, they had both come and judging from how lax and content Simon had been, he had enjoyed it. But they hadn’t even finished the scene, Kieren hadn’t removed Simon’s blindfold for god’s sake and there had been absolutely nothing in the way of aftercare. Kieren had read up on it all, knows that softer scenes tend not to need as much aftercare as others, but he knows Simon better than that, knows that aftercare is essential. It’s one of the things Simon seems to enjoy most about submitting.

Kieren can only imagine the panic that would have overcome Simon when he realised something was wrong, the dread when he pulled off the blindfold to find Kieren limp and unresponsive. He can picture Simon’s nervous fingers shaking as he called Amy, as he dressed himself and Kieren. The sudden plummet from bliss to terror probably had Simon curled up into the corner of the room, breathing shallow.

 _You have no idea what you’re doing_ , Kieren thinks. As much as he knows he couldn’t have helped blacking out, knows that it’s just part of him coming back to life, it doesn’t change the guilt. Kieren has no idea what to do, no idea how to fix this. He can’t find Simon, and even if he could he’s not sure whether Simon would want aftercare so long after a scene, or if he’d just play it off and start again. Kieren went in knowing that this was going to take time, that there would be a lot to learn and figure out, but _Jesus_ he hadn’t anticipated this.

It’s not until Kieren hears the rattling of tracks that he realises he’s walked all the way to the station, a train approaching smoothly. It’s city bound, and Kieren remembers the way Simon had leaned into him on the ride home just days ago.

Suddenly an idea hits him.

Kieren clambers onto the train without a ticket or any money to buy one and finds a seat towards the back. A few people shoot him strange looks but Kieren ignores them. He fidgets the whole way to the city and gets lost twice on the way to his destination, but eventually finds his way. Kieren glances down and notices the way he’s begun to tap his fingers nervously against his thigh. He clenches his fist.

Rowan’s eyes flicker up from the register when the door swings open and their face breaks into a smile. Slipping a bookmark into the thick novel open on the desk, something with a skeleton on the cover, Rowan leans forward on their elbows to greet Kieren.

“Back for more already?” They ask brightly. Kieren feels himself smile but it must look strained because a delicate crease forms between Rowan’s brows. “Something wrong with the stuff you got last time?”

“No, no. It’s all good, thanks.” Kieren fumbles out. Going to Rowan had been a lot easier in thought than in practice. “I, uh… I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. Um, something personal.”

Rowan looks sceptical, but after peering at Kieren for a few moments they nod. “Wait here a sec, I’ll be right back.” Disappearing through a door behind the counter, Kieren can hear soft voices from within while he tugs at a loose thread on his hoodie sleeve. He’s ready to call out an apology and make a hasty retreat when Rowan returns, followed by a beautiful fat girl with brown curls and pink cheeks. She smiles at Kieren, and if he weren’t here about his boyfriend he’d probably want to love her.

“You can have an extra ten minutes for your break, thanks for covering me.” Rowan says to the girl, coming around the counter to stand beside Kieren. The girl, Betty according to her nametag, just nods and starts humming a tune to herself as they leave.

Rowan directs Kieren out a back door and down a flight of stairs into a tiny courtyard attached to the building, dropping down on the single wooden bench there and stretching their smooth legs out in front of them. Their cut-off jeans reveal knobbly knees, which Kieren stares at to avoid Rowan’s gaze as he sits down beside them.

“So.” Rowan says, pulling a box of cigarettes out of their back pocket and slipping one between their lips. They offer Kieren one but he shakes his head. “What can I help you with? I’m assuming this is something to do with sex?” They say it as if they were discussing the weather but the casual ease with which Rowan talks settles Kieren’s nerves a little.

“Yeah.” He says, “It’s about, uh, well…”. Kieren hesitates, unsure of how to phrase his next question. “Do you- are you a dom?”

Rowan blinks then laughs, a rough sound that Kieren likes. “Yeah, I do sometimes.” They smile, pulling out a lighter to light the cigarette between their lips.

“Sometimes?”

“I’m a switch.” At Kieren’s look of confusion Rowan adds, “I go either way, domming or subbing. It all depends on the partners for me.”

“Oh.” Kieren says. He can’t imagine doing what Simon does, getting on his knees and moulding himself to whatever the person above him wants. The thought of doing that and then switching to dominating someone? Frankly, it sounds impossible to Kieren. Still, knowing that Rowan’s seen both sides of the coin is actually reassuring, considering Kieren’s reasons for coming to them.

Rowan’s giving him a sidelong glance, smoke curling up from the cigarette between their fingers as they wait for Kieren to speak. “My boyfriend.” Kieren begins, startling himself with the title, “We did a scene and I, uh… I couldn’t do any aftercare. So he’s been avoiding me ever since and I’m not sure what to do.” It all comes out in a rush, Kieren focussing on the silver chain around Rowan’s pale ankle to avoid their eyes.

They make a low noise. “When did this happen?” They say, voice even.

“Yesterday. I haven’t seen him since, except for about a minute just after it happened.”

“And you say you _couldn’t_ provide aftercare?” There’s coldness in Rowan’s voice now and Kieren glances up to see their brow raised in accusation. It’s such a total contrast to how they greeted him that Kieren’s thrown for a minute. That is, until he realises what Rowan’s implying.

“No, _no_ , oh my god, no. I blacked out.” Kieren hurries out, hands coming up, “It’s a- a medical thing, I just- at the end of the scene I blacked out and by the time I came to there were other people around and Simon wouldn’t even look at me.” He explains, because the last thing he wants is for Rowan to think he’s the kind of dom who thinks aftercare is optional. For their part Rowan’s posture loosens a little, and they take a long drag from the cigarette, letting smoke slowly curl out from their lips.

“A medical thing, okay.” They say, leaning forward and give Kieren a small, reassuring smile. “Your Simon’s probably gone into sub drop, judging from what I know and what you’ve just told me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but he seems like the kind of sub who craves validation, so cutting off a scene without proper aftercare would probably really easily trigger a drop.” Kieren can tell the guilt must be showing on his face because Rowan reaches out and lays a hand on his. “You’re new to this, so accidents are going to happen, and if you blacked out there’s really not much you can do about that but try to make up for the missed aftercare.”

“How?” Kieren asks. Frankly he feels like he needs all the help he can get. Rowan smiles good-naturedly and taps their cigarette, letting some of the ash fall.

“Personally, if I were in the situation I’d find my sub and give them the aftercare they missed.” Rowan explains, leaning back into the seat again. “If they’re avoiding me it’s either because they don’t want to see me anymore, in which case I’d leave them be, or because the drop has them doubting themselves and their submission, in which case extra care is really important. Communication is key so I always make sure I talk through what went wrong, how they’re feeling and what they need to deal with the drop.”

It all makes sense, and while Kieren feels a quiet panic at the idea of Simon possibly not wanting to see him again, he knows it’s unlikely to be the case. Still, one question lingers, and Rowan must be able to tell because they’re watching Kieren with a small, inviting smile.

“What about the next time we do a scene?”

Rowan hums and leans forward, bracing their elbows on their knees while they take a last drag from their cigarette. They have fine, dark hair on their arms. “All depends on the sub, and again, communication is the best way to figure things out. My only advice would be to focus on their needs and make sure aftercare is immediately after the scene, that way they can’t panic or think that they’re going to go without again. When I’ve dropped one of the only ways I can really get into a scene again is if I know what’s going to happen and that it’s all stuff I’m okay with. And keep it simple – overloading a sub with a complex scene can be too much so soon after dropping.”

The seriousness with which Rowan speaks is such a contrast to their bubbly personality in the store and Kieren’s immensely grateful for it. For a moment he wonders how old they are, because they respect and understand dominance so much more than someone who’s new to it might. Rowan drops the butt of their cigarette and crushes it under their sneaker. Kieren’s not sure what to say.

“Thank you.” He mutters, and because he feels weird leaving it at that, “I didn’t really know who else to ask.”

Rowan grins, bumping their shoulder against Kieren’s. “It’s all good. I’m glad you came to me actually; most new doms would ask Google or some dodgy kink forum and get a bunch of bullshit thrown at them. It’s hard filtering what information is legit online, so it’s usually better to ask someone who actually has experience.” Kieren finds himself smiling back and scratches his neck absently when Rowan doesn’t look away.

“Well, you’ve been more helpful in ten minutes than Google usually is in an hour, so thanks.” He says. “You’re a good teacher.” Rowan laughs at that, the same rough laugh as before, setting Kieren at ease.

“Well if you and your Simon ever want any practical teaching, I’m more than happy to help out.” They wink and Kieren is quietly surprised that he wouldn’t be totally against considering it. Though, probably not when he’s totally preoccupied with Simon being in sub drop and avoiding him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” Kieren jokes back, laughing when Rowan pouts dramatically.

After a few more minutes Rowan stands, stretching their arms above their head and revealing a sliver of their stomach, a dusting of dark hair just below their navel. What has Kieren staring, however, is how dramatically pale the skin of their stomach compare to everywhere else. The grey pallor and dark veins are obvious and Kieren finds himself blurting it out before he can stop himself.

_“You’re PDS?”_

Rowan blinks down at him, frowning before noticing their shirt and tugging it back into place. “Yeah.” They say slowly, still looking uneasy.

“Oh, no it’s okay.” Kieren adds quickly, “I am too.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s- wait, _what?”_ He asks, shocked. “How?”

Rowan’s giving him a strange look and they reach down to take his hand in theirs, Kieren’s fingers alarmingly pale in contrast to Rowan’s mousse-covered skin.

Oh. _Oh._

“Shit.”

Rowan laughs. “I take it you completely forgot about the mousse today?” They grin wryly, taking their hand from Kieren’s and smoothing out where some of the mousse has smudged around their fingers. “It’s okay, Dionysus is open to anyone for anything, so you won’t get any trouble.”

Kieren smiles. Now that he knows Rowan’s PDS it’s easier to see the tell-tale signs; the stiff way their legs move and the strange grey of their eyes, which must be custom contacts. Still, Rowan’s face looks so warm and alive that Kieren can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the mousse. When he asks Rowan laughs, already heading back up towards the store.

“I’m a special effects makeup artist.” They say, pushing the door to Dionysus open, “This is just my day job.”

 

* * *

 

The trains are delayed, so Kieren doesn’t get back to Roarton until mid-afternoon. Grey clouds are rolling in overhead and the wind has turned bitingly cold, something Kieren has only just started to be able to feel. He stops by his house for a coat to go over his hoodie just as Jem’s getting home from a school study group.

“Didn’t you get in trouble for that?” He asks and he searches the coat rack, indicating Jem’s plum-tinted lips. She grins.

“Yeah, but it got me some appreciative looks from Morgan Lewis.” Jem quips, darting around Kieren as he finally finds his grey coat in amongst all the others.

“Oh, he sounds very cool.” Kieren teases as he throws on the coat and opens the porch door. The gust that blows in is freezing and Kieren pauses to consider a scarf.

“She, actually.” Kieren glances back. Jem’s looking up at him from where she’s unlacing her school shoes, black nail polish chipped. “Morgan’s a girl.”

“Well,” Kieren says, “I hope she continues to look appreciatively.” He darts in to press a kiss to Jem’s forehead, smiling when she bats him away, cheeks flushed. “I’ll see you later.” He grins and Jem waves him off, watching from the porch until he’s around the corner and out of her sight.

 _Morgan’s a girl_ , Kieren repeats in his mind as he walks. _That’s new._

The trip to the bungalow isn’t long, but Kieren can’t ignore the way his feet drag, legs feeling even stiffer than usual. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get there, doesn’t want to find Simon and make things right. That’s all Kieren wants in the world right now. The only problem is doing it – sitting down and discussing how he’d failed Simon, even though the situation was out of his control.

Kieren’s hoping that Simon will be at the bungalow, or at least will return at some point in the near future. Still, he can’t be certain Simon hasn’t disappeared again, withdrawn into the city for a few days with no way for Kieren to track him down. The thought makes Kieren queasy so he pushes it away, tries to focus on what Rowan had told him.

_Aftercare._

_Talk it out._

_Focus on Simon._

He repeats the three points like a mantra, keeping them in time with his step until he finds himself at the door to the bungalow, staring at the frosted glass and doing nothing. It feels an awful lot like the day after their first kiss, standing out in the cold and hoping against hope that things would be… well, good. Kieren breathes out slowly and knocks.

Seconds later the door is flung open, Amy standing wild and fuming on the other side.

Kieren opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off with a sharp noise and a finger to his lips. Her eyes are ablaze and her hair looks a mess, but she breathes measuredly for a moment before speaking.

“ _I,_ ” she says slowly, restrained, “Am going to see Phillip. I’m not coming back until _you two_ ,” she gestures sharply over her shoulder, clearly referring to Simon, “Sort your shit out. Call me when you’ve stopped being repressed gits.” She glares at a bewildered Kieren before flattening her hair and storming out the door, shoving past Kieren a she goes.

Blinking through the shock of Amy’s wrath, it’s a few minutes before Kieren steps inside and closes the door gently behind him, pausing for only a moment before locking it. Inside it’s deathly quiet, the silence making nerves bubble up inside his chest and keeping him rooted to the floor. _Baby steps, Walker,_ he thinks, _baby steps._ Kieren takes off his coat and hangs it on the stand by the door.

When he glances back up Simon’s standing at the end of the hall in the doorway to his room.

Neither of them move for a long while, simply watching each other from opposite ends of the hall. Despite only having been apart for a day, Kieren finds himself raking his eyes over Simon’s body and face, taking in any differences. He looks tired and his hands jitter nervously at his sides, but otherwise Simon seems unchanged. Kieren’s unsure as to whether or not he should feel relieved.

“How are you feeling?” Simon asks quietly when the silence begins to grow strained.

“Okay.” Kieren tries to ignore the way his voice wavers. “Simon, about yesterday, I-”

“It’s fine.”

Kieren blinks, incredulous. At the other end of the hall Simon won’t meet his eyes, body tense. He’d been pulled from a scene, gone without aftercare and avoided Kieren for a day and a half. It most definitely was not fine.

“No, it’s not fine.” Kieren says, “Simon, we have to talk about this.” He advances down the hall as he says it but Simon starts to back up, retreating further into his room. From the way he’s still focussed on the floor Kieren would hazard a guess that Simon doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. Kieren stops, about a metre of space left between them, not wanting to push Simon. Rowan’s words echo in his mind; _If my sub doesn’t want to see me, I’d leave them be._

Simon’s still standing there, eyes now level with Kieren’s knees.

“Simon, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did and there’s nothing I can do about that.” As he talks Simon’s eyes flash up, confusion evident in the slant of his brows. “But we have to talk about it, okay?”

“You’re sorry?” Simon asks, and okay, that wasn’t what Kieren had expected him to latch onto.

“Yes, of course.” He says, horrified that Simon would even consider Kieren not being apologetic for what had happened.

“For what? Blacking out?”

Kieren frowns at Simon’s tone of disbelief. “Well, yes, I guess. But more specifically for the fact that we didn’t get to do proper aftercare because of it.”

“Oh. That’s- it’s fine. I don’t need it every time.” Simon says with an air of nonchalance, but after the initial shock of the words Kieren hears it only as self-dismissal.

Dread slips like freezing liquid through his chest.

“What do you mean?” He asks carefully, hoping to god this isn’t what he thinks it is. “Simon, what do you mean you don’t need aftercare every time?”

Across from him Simon remains quiet.

“Simon, how many of your other doms did regular aftercare?” Kieren keeps his voice serious but non-judgemental, making Simon chance a glance at his face. The concern and anger rising in his chest must show on Kieren’s face because Simon looks conflicted, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Simon, answer me. Please.” Kieren repeats.

Simon looks flighty, but he responds after another brief silence. “One or two, maybe?”

Kieren’s stomach drops.

He feels like he’s going to be sick, stomach churning and twisting with the thought. _Two._ Of all the doms Simon has had, and Kieren knows there had been many, only _two_ had actually looked after him. Even then Simon had phrased it like a question, god knows what those two doms had even considered proper aftercare.

Instantly every tell and sign is rushing at Kieren in a violent wave of horror. Simon’s fear of judgement the first time he fell to his knees. His surprise at the lists, at the discussion of limits, at safewords. His constantly seeking Kieren’s approval before even thinking to ask for something. His hesitance in expressing any preference at Dionysus. His not telling Kieren when he felt uncomfortable.

“Jesus Christ, Simon.” Kieren gasps, closing his eyes tight and pinching his brow. _He probably doesn’t even know he’s in subdrop_ , Kieren realises.

“It’s not an issue. I was usually too fucked up to notice, it didn’t matter.” Simon says, as if that’s meant to reassure Kieren. It doesn’t. Letting out a long, slow breath, Kieren tries to centre himself before he starts to talk again.

“Simon, aftercare is really important. Even if it is only little things, like cleaning you up, it’s how I make sure you’re okay after a scene.” Simon looks put-out but Kieren goes on. “I’m not going to ask you to give me all the details on your sexual history, but Simon, aftercare is non-negotiable with me. Not only because it keeps you from dropping, but because I need it to know that I’ve been good to you and that what we’ve done in a scene hasn’t caused any damage.” Kieren says, then adds, “Physical or otherwise.”

At those last words Simon’s mouth twitches up, the tiny smile so self-deprecating that Kieren can’t decide whether he wants to kiss Simon or kill him. Simon seems to be considering what he’s said though, so Kieren stays quiet for the time being. Around them the bungalow creaks.

“Okay.” Simon says eventually, voice soft and just that little bit hesitant. “Okay, aftercare always from now on.” Kieren feels the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Starting now.” Kieren says.

Despite the look of confusion on his face, Simon doesn’t pull away when Kieren takes his hand and leads him into the living room. Kieren takes a seat at one end of the couch, leaning back against the armrest and stretching the length of the seats, pulling Simon down against him. Simon lets out a little sigh, half contentment half something else Kieren can’t quite identify. It takes a bit of manoeuvring, but eventually they settle, Simon lying with his head on Kieren’s chest, their legs tangled. With one hand running the length of Simon’s back and the other combing through his hair, Kieren feels the most settled he has since his blackout.

Over time he feels Simon begin to loosen up in his arms, breaths turning slow and deep. Kieren knows Simon’s still awake because of the way his fingertips run back and forth over Kieren’s ribs, the sensation dulled but comforting through his shirt. The contentment that comes with finally being able to hold Simon, to feel the tension leak out of him, is overwhelming.

They still have to talk about what’s happened, that much is certain. Rowan had said that discussing the subdrop is important in preventing it in the future, but Kieren struggles to find the words. Simon’s cagey about how he feels at the best of times, so asking him straight out how he’s dealing with the drop and what triggered it probably isn’t the best course of action. Then again, Simon has always been something of a follower Kieren rationalises; why not try to lead him?

He glances down at Simon’s dark head of hair, brushing a hand along Simon’s jaw to get his attention. “Is this good?” Kieren asks gently, surprised by how rough his voice is. They must have been lying there for a lot longer than he had assumed. Simon hums out an affirmative noise against his sternum and Kieren can see the slow way he blinks, clearly content. Kieren gives him another few moments of uninterrupted silence before speaking again.

“I talked to Rowan today. From that store, Dionysus.” He feels Simon pause before shrugging. “They said one of the reasons you might have been avoiding me was because the drop was making you doubt… _this_.” As he says it he lifts the hand from Simon’s back to gesture vaguely. Simon shifts a bit, pushing up until he can look at Kieren.

“You told Rowan about what happened?” He asks sharply. The betrayal is veiled, but it’s there. Kieren pets through Simon’s hair soothingly.

“I didn’t really have anyone else to ask about it. I was worried about you.” Simon’s still frowning, chin propped on Kieren’s chest. Kieren sighs. “Simon, not only did you get pulled out of a scene with no aftercare, you also had to deal with me blacking out, which I don’t imagine was very fun. When you started avoiding me I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate me going to Amy or anyone else we know.” Kieren says it lightly but Simon’s face goes dark, the corners of his mouth turning down. Kieren rubs his side reassuringly.

“Rowan is a switch, so they could tell me what I could do to help you as well as explaining things from a sub’s perspective.” Kieren leaves out Rowan’s suggestion of a threesome. “They said communication is key, so do you feel like communicating?” The joking tone has Simon looking a little less defensive, which Kieren counts as a win for now.

“What do you want me to be _communicating_ about?” Simon asks, not even trying to hide the sarcasm heavy on the word.

“How you feel. What you need.” Kieren shrugs. “What went wrong, though that’s pretty obvious.”

Simon makes a face, clearly not thrilled at having to talk about it but considering the questions anyway. Regardless of how lax Simon feels in his arms, there’s no way Kieren’s letting this slide without actually getting Simon to talk about it. Simon has his secrets, Kieren accepts that, but for all his experience as a disciple of the Undead Prophet, Simon’s actually pretty shit at communicating. Then again, rattling off the thoughts and feelings of someone else is probably a hell of a lot easier than expressing your own.

“I’m fine.”

“Simon-“ Kieren begins, but is quickly cut off.

“No, I mean I feel okay. I didn’t before but I do now. It’s just… I don’t know, when I’m not sure if I’ve been good for you it’s easy to doubt why I enjoy it.” It’s one of the most candid things Kieren’s ever heard from Simon and it only confirms what Rowan had suspected. Kieren presses a kiss to the top of Simon’s head but stays quiet to see if he’ll say more. He eventually does. “It’s just different with you, my other doms were never like you.”

The swell of anger that rises in Kieren’s chest seems to be getting more and more frequent, but try as he might he has no idea how to bring it up without triggering one of Simon’s panics or making him feel judged. As much as he’d like to try to discuss it now, Simon’s already had to deal with enough shit for one day. Kieren holds his tongue and decides that it will be for the last time.

“And what do you need?” Kieren asks, hoping none of the frustration he feels is coming across in his tone. It must not because Simon doesn’t even shift.

“Nothing, really.” He says, the fingers twisted loosely in Kieren’s hoodie saying otherwise.

“Alright then, what do you want?” Kieren rephrases. He leaves the wording open but knows it sounds sexual regardless, and yes a part of it is about what Simon wants in that capacity, but it’s also about what he wants in general. Simon shifts again, pressing his chin to Kieren’s chest to look him in the eye.

“Lots of things.” Simon says, then moves in tentatively to press a tiny kiss to Kieren’s lips. Kieren leans into it regardless of the awkward angle of his neck, brings his other hand up to cup Simon’s cheek while the one at Simon’s back clings a little tighter. It’s incredibly gentle, softer than their first, second, third kisses by far. When Simon pulls back he leaves his eyes shut for a fraction of a second longer. The veins on his eyelids are going grey, the black seeping slowly out, and it makes Kieren a little nervously happy. Simon blinks his eyes open and watches Kieren for a moment.

“I lov-”

Kieren moves in quickly to press his lips to Simon’s again, trapping the words halfway out of Simon’s mouth. For the barest moment Simon resists, but with the easy way Kieren’s lips move and the tender slide of his tongue Simon is quickly lost in the sensation. Kieren’s glad he doesn’t have a heartbeat to give away how he feels.

How does he feel? Simon was about to say that he… that he loves Kieren. At least that’s what it seemed like and somehow that’s terrifying. Kieren’s not ready to hear that, not now, not here in the bungalow, pressed close on a couch that isn’t theirs, Simon’s lips soft on his. Kieren doesn’t want to think about why that might be. He blocks out the thoughts with Simon’s mouth, with the slide of tongues and the soft breaths they shave for the briefest moments when their lips part.

They kiss for what must be an age, mouths tender for long, long minutes before teeth begin to nip at lips. Even then, though, things stay slow. It feels like the world has blurred somehow, everything a little fuzzy around the edges, Simon’s jumper too soft under Kieren’s fingertips. He slips a hand under Simon’s clothes to press a hand to the base of his spine. Simon sighs into Kieren’s mouth.

When Simon’s hips begin moving of their own accord Kieren encourages it, pushes up to meet every downwards push of Simon’s. They’re hard and eager against each other, cocks brushing through layers of denim and cotton but neither of them move to undress. It’s a slow burn, the heat of it building up from embers as they keep kissing, mouths never leaving one another. Their breath is hot and Kieren feels like he’s high on it.

The only time either of them pulls away is when Simon’s hips grow frantic, thrusting against Kieren’s hip hurriedly. Then his lips are leaving Kieren’s, biting and sucking against his neck, almost as if he’s scared to leave any marks on that alabaster skin. Kieren knows he can’t be marked, no matter how much he wishes Simon could raise a pink bruise on his skin – a reminder that Kieren is his as much as he is Kieren’s. Through tender, wet lips Kieren tells Simon this.

Simon’s fingers dig into Kieren’s side when he comes, gasping and biting down a little too hard on Kieren’s neck. It’s not long after that Kieren comes in his jeans too, nothing to stain his pants with. There’s hardly room to breathe with how quickly Simon is back, pressing tiny, stolen little kisses to Kieren’s slack mouth. After a while he begins to return them, the warm, blurry feeling never dissipating.

“I missed you.” Kieren breathes between kisses. Simon just hums out a content noise and presses in for more.

 

* * *

 

Kieren doesn’t spot the mark until the next morning when he goes to the bathroom for water.

It’s still early, the light in Simon’s room only beginning to warm from grey to yellow and the bathroom tiles are cold under Kieren’s feet. He’s thirst, which has happened a few times in the past weeks, a small glass of water usually enough to get rid of the unfamiliar itching in the back of his throat. Kieren doesn’t bother flicking the light on, the room dim but not so dark that he struggles to see. The faucet creaks noisily and from the other room Kieren hears Simon grumble. He smiles and cups the cool water in his hands, bringing it to his mouth to drink.

The liquid is freezing and prefect, soothing the burning in the back of his throat almost instantly. Kieren swallows another handful before turning off the tap, mindful that too much could have him vomiting black bile for the rest of the day. He only barely glances at the mirror as he’s about to leave, but something catches his eye. There’s a mark, purple-pink and vibrant against his neck. Kieren leans in, peers closer at his reflection.

It’s a _hickey._

For a moment Kieren just stands there in total disbelief, raising his fingers to brush the mark. He half expects the mark to rub off, but no, it’s definitely there, sucked into his skin. He’s never had a hickey before, Rick hadn’t even kissed him let alone left any marks and Kieren finds that he quite likes the look of it. Yes, despite being barely the size of a coin Kieren loves it. The first mark on his body since he rose, the first visible change in his flesh and it’s something from Simon. Kieren finds himself smiling, the thought oddly poetic.

“Come back to bed.” Simon calls hopefully from the other room.

It startles Kieren a little, so enamoured with the tiny mark on his neck that he’d entirely forgotten himself. Then, of course, the though of showing Simon the hickey dawns on him and Kieren’s grinning as he hurries back to the bedroom.

Simon’s cocooned in the doona as usual, a total blanket hog and clingy sleeper. He’d once explained to Kieren that one night on the streets in January will ensure you never take blankets for granted again, let alone months on end. Kieren had gotten into the habit of snuggling closer to Simon after that, never trying to tug the blankets back, just burrowing under them with Simon instead. When Kieren crawls across the bed Simon’s dark head pops up and he lifts a corner of the doona invitingly. Instead of joining him, however, Kieren tilts his head back and presents his neck.

_“Oh.”_

It’s almost reverent, the noise Simon makes when he sees the mark. In an instant he’s out from under the blankets and sitting in front of Kieren, hesitant fingers ghosting across the purple bruise. Kieren shivers when he feels Simon’s fingertips barely graze his skin.

“How?” Simon asks. Kieren only shrugs, still grinning at how Simon can’t seem to take his eyes off the mark.

“I guess I’m getting blood back now.” Kieren supplies, though it sounds like a question. It may explain the warm, blurred way he had felt last night, but on the whole his body really doesn’t feel that much different. He takes a moment to check, but no, his heart remains still and silent in his chest. Simon’s still enthralled with the bruise.

“Can I make more?” Simon asks quietly after a long time. He’s looking up at Kieren through dark lashes and there’s no way he’s unaware of hot damn seductive it is. Kieren thrills a little.

“Yeah.” He grins, leaning back to lay against the pillows. He’s in his pants and a shirt but Simon quickly strips the latter off and goes straight for Kieren’s collarbone. “No,” Kieren says, hand going to Simon’s shoulder, “I don’t want my family asking why I look like a leper. Somewhere a little easier to hide, maybe?”

Almost automatically Kieren’s hand trails across Simon’s clavicle and to the base of his throat, just resting there while he rubs a gentle thumb along Simon’s jugular. Simon inhales slowly and nods. He then spends a moment just looking at Kieren’s bare, skinny torso, as if to figure out where he most wants to mark him. Leaning in, Simon first presses a wet kiss to Kieren’s sternum, then moves up until his mouth is just beneath his right collarbone. For a moment he hesitates but Kieren places the tiniest amount of pressure on Simon’s throat and seconds later he’s latching on, teeth bringing just an edge of pain as he begins to suck a mark there.

For long minutes Simon bites and sucks at Kieren’s skin, pulling back every now and again to examine his work. The bruises are faint at first and slow to appear but each one is better than the last, Simon raising hickeys on Kieren’s left pectoral and just over his ribs next. By the time he’s reached Kieren’s navel there’s no denying the rising tent in Kieren’s pants by he ignores it, keeping his hand light on Simon’s throat when he begins to suck a mark to Kieren’s hip.

Kieren supposes it should feel like role reversal, having Simon marking him up like this but it doesn’t. In fact, it almost feels more possessive than half of the other things they’ve done – the notion that Simon is only sucking bruises into his skin because Kieren allowed it. He relaxes a little further into the pillows behind him and runs a hand through Simon’s hair. After this he’ll have Simon blow him, Kieren decides, then he’ll rim Simon until he’s crying and begging for release.

Just as Simon pulls back to inspect the newest hickey there’s a loud knock on the front door and Kieren jolts so violently he almost knees Simon in the head. For a moment they stare at each other in shock, then they’re laughing, Simon’s face so open and happy that Kieren has to lean in and kiss him. From the door the knocking comes again, louder this time and Simon pulls away with a smile.

“I’ll get it, I assume?” He quips, raising a brow at the obvious erection straining at Kieren’s pants. Dressed still in pyjama pants (though unfortunately not the yellow duck ones Amy had bought him, which were in the wash) and a loose shirt, Simon pads out of the room and towards whoever is still knocking at the door.

Giggling to himself for a moment, Kieren lays happily in the messed bed sheets and listens to the sound of Simon opening the door and greeting whoever’s on the other side none too politely. The mood has been broken, Kieren’s dick quickly going soft in his pants as he listens to Simon argue down the hall, but he still feels light with contentment. Frankly, everything had gone better than he expected and if the way Simon had so willingly accepted the hand at his throat was anything to go by their next scene will go a lot better than the last.

Kieren sighs and flops his upper half over the side of the bed, fumbling around for his shirt – Simon had tossed it off the bed but Kieren hadn’t noticed where. He leans a little further over the side and shoves his arms under the bed, tapping his hands around until he finds something soft. Wondering how his shirt got so far under the bed Kieren draws it out, but the object in his hands isn’t his shirt. Frowning, he looks at it for a long minute between pushing back up onto the bed, inspecting the supple leather of it for a moment.

Out in the hallway there’s the sound of the door shutting followed by Simon’s quiet footsteps as he heads back towards the room. Kieren fumbles at the string tying the thing in his hands together, tugs it until the leather unrolls.

“Git had the wrong house, wanted to install a pool filter or some-” Simon’s voice cracks and he freezes in the doorway.

On the bed Kieren’s sitting cross-legged, the worn leather pouch unrolled before him to reveal the array of blades within. He turns to Simon slowly, one of the vicious, serrated knives held flat in his palm. If possible Simon’s face has gone even paler, his eyes wide in terror and his hands are already beginning to tremble.

“I thought you weren’t into knives.” Kieren says slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little shorter than usual - I have limited motivation and even less time than ever to write because of exams, but hopefully things will start improving soon. As always I thrive off comments so please let me know what you think!!


	7. Chapter 7

Simon doesn’t say anything for a long time.

In front of Kieren the knives shine dully. The light in Simon’s room is melting into the yellow glow of what is turning into an uncharacteristically sunny day for Roarton. Its warmth doesn’t reach the air inside the room, the chill that had settled in Kieren’s stomach when he found the knives only growing colder in Simon’s silence.

“Simon, I thought you said you weren’t into knives.” Kieren repeats slowly. As he says it he turns over the knife in his hand – it has a small wooden handle and a serrated edge. It’s not the worst of the lot by far, some looking like they could saw through bone, but somehow Kieren… he feels like it’s important. Across the room Simon’s only movement is the frantic tapping of his fingers.

“I-” He begins, then seems to think better of it. Clamping his mouth shut, Simon’s eyes flicker around the room and Kieren’s not entirely sure he’s not about to try lying to him. Kieren beats him to the punch.

“Simon, these aren’t… they’re not sexual, are they?”

A heavy beat of nothing. Simon shakes his head.

The bed under Kieren suddenly feels to soft, too intimate for this. There’s no sense to what’s happening, Kieren has no idea what the knives mean, what they’re for, let alone why Simon has them stashed under his bed. But there’s a strange churning in his gut and the serrated blade in his hand somehow feels familiar. He stands but doesn’t put the knife back in the pouch with the others.

“Simon, what are these?” Kieren asks, not even bothering to indicate knives still on the bed. Simon’s wide eyes are still glued to the pouch in horror. He doesn’t answer. “ _Simon.”_ Kieren says sharply, making him start.

“I… they’re knives.” Simon fumbles out. He sounds terrified, which dampens Kieren’s irritation and confusion a fraction. Only a fraction.

“Yes, I can see that. What I was actually asking is what they’re for. Why they’re under your bed.” Kieren holds up the knife in his hand and Simon visibly flinches. For a moment Kieren is torn, something in his chest aching to comfort Simon, to take those trembling hands in his own and soothe them. But something stronger is screaming at Kieren that _something here is wrong._

Simon’s eyes can’t stay still, jumping from the bed, to the window, to Kieren’s face and back. It reminds Kieren of a cornered animal. The fact that Simon is so clearly distressed only tightens the knots twisting in Kieren’s gut. If there was a simple reason for this, some silly anecdote that lead to Simon’s possession of several lethal weapons, surely he wouldn’t be looking so damn terrified right now, right? Suddenly Kieren’s thinking back to the last time he found something hidden away in Simon’s room, that little blue bottle that had almost damned him. Acid boils in Kieren’s chest as he makes the connection.

“It’s got to do with the ULA, doesn’t it?” He spits. The way Simon clamps his eyes shut and breathes like he’s in pain is all the confirmation Kieren needs. He feels his mouth twist into a scowl. “I thought you’d stopped all this, Simon. I thought you left the ULA after Gary drugged me with _your_ Blue Oblivion.” The accusation finally seems to remind Simon how to speak.

“I did, Kieren, you have to believe me. I left. I left the cause when all that happened.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing with knives stashed under the bed we sleep in?” Kieren growls, gesturing viciously to the array of knives still spread on the soft white sheets. Simon looks like he wants to throw up.

“They’re from before. I got them- they were given to me before I left.” The panic rising in Simon’s voice only makes Kieren angrier. That had been months ago, _months_ of kissing and fucking and holding Simon in a bed above the weapons of an apparently abandoned cause. Perhaps not as abandoned as he had thought. Kieren feels dirty.

“If you got them so long ago why the fuck are they still here?” Kieren knows he’s getting louder, can see it in the way Simon flinches a little. He makes sure not to step forward though, not to point the knife still in his hand at Simon. Kieren could never hurt Simon, would never want Simon to think that he would hurt him, not even if he had a whole bloody ULA armoury hidden under their bed. “Why didn’t you get rid of them along with all the other ULA crap? The posters go in the rubbish, but no, let’s keep the deadly weapons, right?”

“It was for… just in case.”

“In case of what, Simon? In case Zoe decides to make a home visit or something?” He scoffs but the way Simon’s face darkens confuses Kieren for only a moment. When he speaks again the sarcasm is gone from his voice. “Are these… Simon, why would Zoe be dangerous? Why would any of your followers be dangerous?”

“It’s not just them.” Simon says slowly, “I’m a traitor to the ULA now, I abandoned the cause when I chose you over the second rising. We- _they_ are extremists. You never know what a believer is willing to do.” There’s something wrong in the way he says it, something dark about those last few words. Simon’s hands are still shaking but Kieren’s watching his face and there’s something strange mixed in with the fear, something that’s almost… guilt. It doesn’t make sense, but then Kieren remembers what Simon had said before, about abandoning the ULA.

“You said you got these before that, though. Before you… defected.” Simon makes a face but says nothing. “Simon, why did you need knives to protect yourself from your followers before you did anything wrong?”

“I didn’t need them for protection.”

“For what then? Cooking? Hunting? Murder?” Kieren jokes, “Because these things look pretty bloody deadly…”

He trails off when he notices Simon’s hands. As much as he had kept his face blank, Simon’s hands have suddenly stilled, fingers frozen and digging into his thighs. Kieren feels his stomach drop.

“No.” He says slowly, taking a step back under the shock of the implications. “ _No_ , Simon. Don’t you dare, don’t lie to me. You can’t- that’s- it’s not possible.” Kieren’s voice wavers but it’s Simon’s silence that is more disturbing, the fact that the man with all the answers isn’t even bothering to deny what he’s done. The knife in Kieren’s hand burns his skin and he looks down at it in horror before tossing it to the ground with a _thunk_. Rubbing his hand against his bare thigh to try to get rid of the feeling of the smooth wooden handle Kieren feels unclean. When he looks up again Simon’s face is blank, eyes lifeless.

Everything begins to fall into place; Simon’s disappearance, the other undead preparing for the second rising. Talk of a first risen.

Kieren wants to throw up.

“You didn’t go to the city to see a friend, did you? You went to see them.” He says slowly. Simon just looks at him, doesn’t deny a word of it. “Who?” Kieren demands. “Who did they tell you to kill?”

In the doorway Simon is dappled in yellow light from where it filters through the window. Ten minutes ago Kieren would have found it beautiful, would have wanted to draw it. Now all it does is make the entire situation feel wrong, like the world hadn’t quiet got the memo that everything Kieren thought he knew was scheduled to come shattering down this morning. Simon is still silent.

“Who,” Kieren says softly, dangerously as he takes a step forward, “Were you going to kill, Simon?”

Simon clamps his eyes shut again, mouth twisting and it looks like he’s in agony.

_“You.”_

The world stops.

It’s like in those action movies, the ones Simon hates; the protagonist has been cornered, something is exploding and the only way out is to make an impossible leap. They run, they jump, and just as they pass the midway point the camera slows, everything turns sluggish. The character arcs for what seems like years. For a moment they are suspended in space and time, hovering between life and death even though you know they’re going to make the leap.

Time restarts and Kieren feels himself plummeting.

 _“What?_ ” He gasps out. What else is there to say?

Simon’s face is a mix of terror and agony and guilt, the upward tilt of his eyebrows and pained curve of his mouth speaking volumes of how he feels. Kieren doesn’t care. Kieren can’t feel. He wants to wake up from this nightmare, but he’s falling through flame and soon he’ll hit the ground.

“The Prophet.” Simon says, voice strained as if every word is being torn like glass shards form his throat. Kieren hopes it feels twice as painful, then hates himself for thinking it. “When I sent word about having found the first risen they called me in, said the Prophet had a new mission for me. I thought- Kieren, I thought it would be _good._ That the first risen would be loved, adored, not… _I didn’t know_. I didn’t know that the first had to be sacrificed.” His eyes, white as they are, darken again. “But the Prophet said it had to be done… he said it was necessary.”

Kieren frowns. Regardless of the shock and betrayal coursing through his veins like a fire, something’s not adding up. “But you said you were going to- you said I was going to die. Not the first risen.” Simon returns his confused gaze.

“You are the first.” Simon says, then when Kieren just looks more confused; “You said it to Gary and your family, I was there.”

Something akin to a mirthless laugh rips from Kieren’s throat. It makes Simon wince. “That was- Simon, I was being _fucking poetic._ ” He snarls, “That was- it was a _story,_ Simon. It was fucking embellished for dramatic effect, there were heaps of others already around when I rose.” Suddenly Kieren can’t stand still anymore, needs to move before he combusts. He begins pacing restlessly, feeling Simon’s anxious eyes track his movements.

“But… but, I thought…” Simon trails off, the comprehension dawning on his face only making Kieren angrier.

“Why didn’t you just _ask me_ you fucking idiot?” He growls, not caring that his voice has raised just that bit too much to be considered polite. Kieren digs his hands into his hair and tugs, adrenaline pumping through his body. “You were going to kill me- no, _murder me_ , because of some stupid fucking story I told to shut up Gary? WHAT THE FUCK, SIMON?”

Simon’s whole body actually tenses when Kieren screams the last sentence, but the look of terrified guilt on his face no longer makes Kieren’s heart ache. No, the only thing Kieren feels is rage and betrayal, his stomach churning and chest tight with it. He looks at Simon, at his dark hair and sloped shoulders and wonders how, just minutes ago, he had thought the man beautiful.

 _That beautiful man was going to kill me_ , Kieren realises.

Suddenly he needs to get out.

Stalking to the closet, Kieren flings the doors open with a bang and snatches out some of the spare clothes he keeps at the bungalow. He’s already got his jeans wrenched up his hips before Simon seems to realise what’s going on. Unsurprisingly, Simon panics.

“Wait, no, Kieren. Please, don’t- I just,” He begins, tripping over himself while Kieren furiously yanks a shirt over his head. “Kieren, _please_ , you don’t understand. I couldn’t- I saw you and I couldn’t do it. I can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t, please. You have to believe me, Kieren, I didn’t want to do it-”

Kieren, having pulled on a hoodie, whirls and storms towards Simon, who backs away in the face of his rage. “You didn’t want to? _You didn’t fucking want to?_ ” Kieren hisses, voice gone low and dangerous, “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t _want_ to do. You brought those knives here and you were ready to kill me, you were-” Kieren stops suddenly, a memory flickering.

_The grass and dirt is soft under them, Simon’s body a grounding presence above him. There are voices but Kieren isn’t quite sure what they’re saying, too focussed on the feel of Simon breathing. Simon’s right hand is curled loosely by his arm, the other near his head. A dull thunk, the sound of something metal hitting the dirt. Simon’s left hand touches Kieren’s face._

Kieren looks down at the knife he had tossed to the floor. Even from a few feet away he can see the dirt on its blade.

“That’s why you were at the graveyard.” Kieren says slowly, disbelief staining his voice. He huffs out a disbelieving little noise, the realisation briefly dampening his rage. “I had wondered, you know. How you knew where to be, how you knew to save me.” Simon looks like he wants to protest. Simon looks like he wants to cry. Kieren hates it. “You weren’t there to save me. _You were there to kill me._ ” He hisses. Simon recoils as if Kieren had hit him.

They’re standing so close, Simon still in the doorway and Kieren needs to get past him, needs to leave. Yet, despite everything, all Kieren can think is that if they were standing in this exact same position yesterday, he would have wanted to kiss Simon.

For the tiniest moment Kieren doubts.

_A dull thunk, the sound of something metal hitting the dirt._

Kieren stops doubting. He shoves past Simon and heads for the door, pausing only to grab his coat off the rack. Behind him he can hear Simon moving, hear his tentative steps as he follows Kieren but leaves some space between them. Kieren would never, ever hit Simon, never try to hurt him like that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking that Simon’s distance is wise.

“Kieren,” Simon says and Kieren has never heard such blatant desperation in his voice before, “Kieren, please don’t.” His voice is so soft, sifting like a mist through the rage and betrayal that had formed like armour around Kieren’s body. It’s like a drop of ice water on Kieren’s burning chest, seeping through his ribs to trickle against his volcanic heart.

Despite his better judgement, despite the fury still blazing in Kieren’s gut and the way his mind screams at him to just leave, Kieren glances back. Simon looks pitiful and lost, eyes pleading but fingers slack and still by his sides. Something in his pale irises changes, something in the twist of his mouth that says he thinks he can fix this.

“Kieren,” He breathes, so, so hopeful, “I love y-”

“ _Don’t_.” Kieren snarls. Simon’s eyes go wide in shock at the venom and violence in Kieren’s voice. “ _Don’t you dare_. You don’t get to say that to me.”

Then he’s flinging the door open and storming into the sunny Roarton morning, leaving Simon to stand hopelessly in the hallway. Kieren doesn’t bother shutting the door.

 

* * *

 

Amy finds Simon curled against the wall in the hallway, the front door wide open. She’s ready to tell him off for it when she sees the way his whole body is shaking, the terror in his face. His eyes are wide and unseeing, hands trembling.

Amy shuts the door and sits down beside him. Simon doesn’t respond when she takes his hand.

 

* * *

 

The house is empty when Kieren arrives home.

It’s barely mid-morning, Jem only would have left for school an hour or two ago, his parents not long after that. Silence rings in Kieren’s ears when he steps inside, slams and locks the door behind him. He hates it.

Breaths keep ripping out of him as if he’s been running for days even though he’d walked the whole way home. There’s a tightness in his chest and his wrists prickle with a phantom pain while blood throbs quietly in his ears. There’s not enough blood in him to make any real noise yet, but there’s enough to feel like he’s bleeding out.

Kieren wrenches his coat off, kicks his shoes aggressively into a corner. He’s still fuming, anger and betrayal like a storm in his chest, lightning bolts of rage flashing from time to time when he thinks of the knives or of Simon.

_Simon._

Grimacing, Kieren stalks through his house and up to his room. Everything’s so neat; canvases hanging straight-edged on the wall and the corners of the bedspread tucked in properly. Sue must have made the bed because Kieren certainly didn’t when he left the previous morning to find Simon. There’s a strange kind of churning in Kieren’s stomach whenever he thinks of it – thinks of how much he had wanted to make Simon feel better, to fix thing between them yesterday. And now? Well, now Simon’s a would-be murderer and Kieren’s the idiot who thought that an extremist in a fluffy jumper was anything but.

_Because there’s what I believe, and then there’s you._

That’s what Simon had said once, months ago now. In the kitchen in the bungalow Simon had offered a separation of the two, had admitted that he could keep his feelings for Kieren apart from his devotion to his cause. The words had once comforted Kieren, had made him believe that he was an exception to Simon’s rule of conversion, that he could be to Simon what Rick had never been to him. Those words had given him courage when he had kissed Simon that second time in the middle of the street. Now they’re like a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat, something dry and disgusting that he can’t quite lick away.

_Because there’s what I believe, and then there’s you._

And the two will have to collide at some point, and you will be in the firing line, and what I believe will kill you. Kieren squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head drop back against the wall with a dull thud.

_I saw you and I couldn’t._

The words repeat in Kieren’s head like a scratched record, needle slipping to and fro across his mind. Simon had been so sincere, so regretful when he said them, gazing pleadingly at Kieren across the sun-dappled bedroom. The sky outside is still radiant, had burned Kieren’s eyes as he had walked home.

_I saw you and I couldn’t._

_Why?_ Kieren thinks. In a sense he knows. Judas would have closed his eyes when he kissed Jesus’ cheek, wouldn’t he? No traitor wants to watch his lover bleed out around the knife in their back, the knife in the traitor’s hand. Simon is no different.

Yet the thought only makes it worse, because it only confirms Simon’s conviction to the cause until the last moment. Simon was going to kill Kieren. It was only by a whim, by coincidence of Gary’s violence and Pearl’s gun that he didn’t.

Kieren thinks of the bullet hole in Simon’s back. He remembers trailing fingertips over it countless times, marvelling at Simon’s bravery, his devotion. Kieren’s hands burn again. Glancing down at them Kieren draws back his hoodie sleeves, looks at the raised, blackened gashes on his pale wrists. He imagines one in his chest to match, imagines Simon’s fingers tracing it the way he sometimes touches the cuts on Kieren’s wrists.

Rick hadn’t loved Kieren, but at least he hadn’t meant to kill him.

No, Rick had died rather than harm him.

Kieren sinks to his bedroom floor, back hard against the wall. From his place on the ground he can see the shoebox under his bed, can already imagine pulling out the postcard, running fingertips across Rick’s faded handwriting.

Kieren doesn’t move, just sits there and lets himself become numb again.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark when Kieren moves next.

Downstairs he can hear the sounds of Sue cooking, of Steve watching some game show and laughing a little too late for the jokes. They haven’t come upstairs, must assume Kieren’s still at the bungalow.

Kieren’s throat has ben burning for hours now, dry claws scraping at his oesophagus in need of water. It’s only now that he’s beginning to feel faint that he gets up, stumbles feebly to the bathroom. He doesn’t turn the light on, just staggers to the basin, eyes jumping to the mirror out of habit.

Even in the darkness Kieren can make out the marks on his neck.

Water flows silently from the faucet and Kieren drinks enough that he should be throwing up black bile for days. He turns the taps off and goes back to his room, clambers into bed and throws the duvet over his head.

Sue and Steve only know he’s home when they hear him retching into the toilet bowl around midnight. They do their best to clean him up, wipe the black vomit from his chin with a damp cloth. He just brings up more minutes later.

When Steve goes back to bed Sue sits and rubs soothing circles on Kieren’s back. She coos softly at him but doesn’t ask questions when his heaving turns into sobs.

 

* * *

 

“Shirley said it’s just part of him coming back, he should be okay in a few days.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s just a bit of vomiting Sue, nothing to worry about.”

“He seemed upset, Steve.”

“Well wouldn’t you be upset if you were puking your guts up at two in the morning?”

“Maybe we should call Simon, see if he can come over and look after Kier? At least while we’re at work, you know.”

In his bed Kieren rolls over and stares impassively at the doors of his closet. It’s still early and he’s tired from being awake all night vomiting, so no one expects him out of bed any time soon. Outside his parents are deciding not to call Simon, not to worry him. They’re sure Kieren would have already let Simon know he’s feeling unwell.

Kieren doesn’t feel relieved or upset, doesn’t feel anything really.

He rolls back over and shuts his eyes.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that the door flies open and bounces off the stopper on the wall, Jem’s hand the only thing preventing it from smacking her in the face. Her dark hair is braided today and she’s peering intently at Kieren through the murky light of his room, the curtains still drawn shut. For a long, drawn out moment they watch each other.

Eventually Jem rolls her eyes and saunters in, dropping down on the end of Kieren’s bed. He moves his legs so she doesn’t sit on them. There’s a sketchpad abandoned at his side, Kieren only having sketched the loose outlines of a figure before it’s sloping shoulders had made him too angry to continue. He leans down to place it on the floor.

“Mum said you were sick last night.” She says. Still dressed in her uniform, tie wonky as usual, Jem must have just arrived home from school. Kieren hadn’t really been paying attention to the time.

“Yeah.” He replies. Jem’s still watching him closely, eyes jumping from his face to his hands where they’re twisted loosely in his duvet cover. They linger for only a fraction too long on his neck and Kieren tugs at his shirt uncomfortably.

“You’re not going rabid.” She says then, nodding a little. Kieren frowns, knows his eyebrows are raised but Jem only blinks at him matter-of-factly. “Kier, I know the signs better than mum or dad do. I love you, you’re my brother and you’re getting better and all that, but you can’t seriously think it didn’t cross my mind that you might have been turning.”

“Jem, I have blood now.” Kieren responds, as if it completely negates any possibility of him going rabid. Which, actually, it kind of does.

“I can see that.” She smirks at the marks on his neck, but must notice the way his expression darkens because she adds with a shrug, “Still, you can never be too careful.” Kieren doesn’t have the energy to argue.

The silence that slowly stretches out between them isn’t awkward, but it lacks the usual comfort of their quiet moments together. Jem feels it too, because her eyebrows furrow and her eyes flick again to the marks on Kieren’s neck. He watches her do it but doesn’t shy away again, just sighs and looks at the thin sliver of light filtering between his curtains. It’s not long before Jem’s bringing her legs up, crossing them under herself on the bed and turning to face Kieren fully.

“Something happened with Simon.” She says slowly. It’s not a question.

Jem had always been perceptive, observant even as a child. She had known about Rick, though she’d never really said anything. She had seen the way Kieren used to paint; it was her who had brought him the pamphlets for all the nearby art schools. Kieren doesn’t like to think about it, but he thinks a part of Jem knew what was going to happen when they found out Rick died.

“Yes.” He finally answers her.

“Should I ask?” The question hangs heavily between them like a sinker on a fishing line, dragging them down to the sandy ocean floor. Kieren has been drowning for a day now, though it feels like a lifetime. He opens his mouth, imagines water flooding his airways and closes it.

He’s not sure.

On the one hand he needs to tell someone, anyone, because he knows what happened last time. Circumstances were different and Kieren’s not even sure the same outcome could be reached, but he knows. His wrist itch, have done since he left the bungalow yesterday. He wants to tell Jem, wants to confide in his sister this dark, horrible thing that’s consuming him like frost at the roots of a sapling. He’s still furious, but that rage has been sectioned off into a little corner of his heart. The rest of Kieren is just tired and hurt and overwhelmingly confused. So yes, he _wants_ to tell Jem.

But he can’t. Because she was a hunter before she was an ally, she shot and cut and destroyed rabids to protect herself and her family. That hatred of the undead had crossed over even when Kieren had come home, even when he had given her nothing to fear or loathe. It had taken so long to make her smile at him again or look him in the eye without contacts in and even now there are times when she glances away too quickly. Kieren doesn’t doubt for a second that she loves him, that she would do anything to look after him. He just knows that includes hunting down anyone who had meant to kill him.

The mere thought of Jem, dark haired and furious as she bursts into the bungalow to find Simon makes Kieren shudder.

No, he cannot tell her. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to.

Kieren realises he’s clutching tighter at the duvet now, eyes clamped shut. Fingertips brush his and he blinks at Jem’s sad, tender face in the gloom.

“I’m sorry.” She says gently, voice so soft her can barely hear it over his own ragged breathing. Kieren nods and Jem just looks more concerned, clambering up the bed to wrap an arm around him, her bicep strong at his shoulder. His little sister taking on a role he’s so used to. “I’m sorry.” She repeats and Kieren leans into her.

They don’t open the blinds. Outside it’s raining and gloomy, the sky the same pallid grey in the circles under Kieren’s eyes.

That night Kieren dreams of Jem’s colt to Simon’s head, of Simon’s knife to Kieren’s throat. Waking brings no relief.

 

* * *

 

When Amy comes by two days later Kieren’s painting, the window in his room thrown open to let in the cold, dry air before a storm. He’s shivering in the cold, his new blood making him all the more susceptible to cold.

Amy knocks at his doorframe and he knows it’s her by the swish of tulle, the sound of bangles jingling as she moves her hand up. Kieren smiles over his shoulder at her but quickly returns his attention to the painting, a still life of some unravelling rope Steve had found in the shed. Seeming to take it as an invitation Amy sidles into the room, folding herself neatly into Kieren’s desk chair. She is alarmingly, uncharacteristically quiet.

When five minutes of silence go by, Kieren mixing and remixing different shades of brown on his small palette, Amy sighs.

“You have to talk to him, Kier.” She sounds weary; like this is a line she’s been giving someone else for the past four days. Kieren hums vaguely, focussing on making the ochre on his brush a little less vibrant. “He’s a mess, Kieren, seriously. He’s barely spoken since I found him the other day, he’s had about six panic attacks and now he thinks he has to leave.”

Kieren doesn’t look up from his paint, knows Amy will see the pain flicker across his face. It doesn’t matter how angry he is, there’s no way for Kieren to stop himself from caring. This is Simon – Simon who he’s held and kissed, laughed with and at – he can’t take back months of caring in a matter of days. In fact, Kieren’s not sure if he can take it back at all, the care. Because you’re supposed to hate the man that would have killed you, but that’s a lot easier when you don’t wake in the morning and ache for him by your side. On the paintbrush Kieren’s hand is trembling minutely.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him or anything, just come see him. Make sure he knows he doesn’t have to go.” Amy says softly, her skirts rustling as she leans towards Kieren. The tiny flame of rage still burning in his gut flares.

“Why?” Kieren asks a little too sharply. Behind him Amy makes an irritated noise. “No, seriously Amy. Why should I tell him to stay? I don’t own Roarton, he can come and go as he likes, what do I have to do with it?” He says, finally turning to face her. There are dark circles under her eyes to match those under his and he sees her glance at the fading yellow bruises on his throat. Her expression doesn’t change.

“He loves you, Kieren.”

_“Bullshit!”_

“No, I’m serious!” She insists, hazel eyes turning determined. “He loves you and you know it.” Her lips are quirked down but she doesn’t look angry or upset, just disappointed. It boils in Kieren’s gut.

“Right, so he loves me. Like you and Phillip love each other?” From the look on Amy’s face she knows Kieren’s leading her to something, but she nods anyway. “Okay, so when is Phillip planning on murdering you? I mean, he doesn’t have to go through with it or anything, because then he’ll totally be free of blame, but just out of interest.” Kieren sneers. The way Amy’s eyes shift almost like she’s remembering something gives Kieren pause and for a second his curiosity stems his anger. It doesn’t last long.

“Kieren, you know Simon would never hurt you.” Amy looks impossibly tired.

“HE WAS GOING TO KILL ME.” He bellows, glaring at Amy for all he’s worth. Because for some reason Kieren had thought she of all people would understand what this means to him – why it makes the stitches in his wrists burn. Kieren’s blood is thundering in his ears and he realises he’s breathing hard.

“But he didn’t, Kieren.”

“Jesus Christ, Amy. Don’t you understa-”

 _“No.”_ Amy cuts him off sharply, a deep crease between her brows now. “Kieren, he was supposed to kill you and he didn’t. Do you know what that meant to him? The kind of consequences he faced?”

Kieren scoffs, because there’s no way he’s letting her turn this into what it’s not. Simon had let his extremism, let his love for the cause dictate his life and it was only actually seeing Kieren, looking at the life he had to take, that had stopped him from following through. But Amy’s mouth has turned down again and this time she does look sad – in fact she looks heartbroken.

“Has Simon ever told you about what happened when he left the treatment centre?” Amy asks hesitantly, like she’s not sure she should be saying it at all. When Kieren shakes his head she gestures for him to sit down. He stays standing, though he puts his palette on the desk. Letting out a long, low sigh Amy begins to talk.

“Simon’s dad threw him out the first night he was home. Told him to take his stuff and never come back. I’m not sure of the exact time period but Simon was on the streets for a while after that. He used to do it a lot before he died, so he says it was fine, but being one of the first undead back in society and then being left homeless really isn’t a good way to start.”

“He’d already met one of the Undead Prophet’s disciples in the treatment centre, a guy called Julian. I’ve only met him once, but he and Simon were really close. So after spending a while on the street Simon called him and asked what he could do, how he could join the fold – he didn’t have anywhere else to go, Kieren. That’s how he joined the ULA.” She pauses here and Kieren takes the opportunity to sink onto the end of his bed, a sudden weight in his chest dragging him down. Amy watches him, possibly to try to gauge his reaction, but even he doesn’t know how he feels.

“They- Kieren, they loved him. They welcomed Simon with open arms and they totally adored him. He was everything they needed; smart, compassionate, a brilliant speaker – perfect for spreading the message, and they told him that.” She smiles sadly. “When you spend long enough with no one giving a shit about you, you start to believe you’re worthless. They showed him he wasn’t, Kier. Yes, they were an extremist group and yeah, a lot of the stuff they’ve done has been… well, questionable. But Kieren, they gave him a home, a place to belong, and then they sent him out to create homes for people like him – people like us.”

“I met Simon in the commune I went to, he was the one who established it. I don’t think many of the others noticed really, he’s so self-assured when he has an audience.” Amy smiles wistfully then and Kieren briefly wonders what Simon would have been like there, in the commune, surrounded by people who relied on him for everything from a roof over their heads to a voice of reason. “But I could tell how important we all were to him, how he kind of wanted our approval, wanted to know he’d done right by us. Maybe I was biased, but when we were sent on our mission out here I knew how happy he was. Kieren, he was so proud – the Undead Prophet, the leader of the people who had accepted him when nobody else would, had chosen him. Simon’s only home had been the ULA, they were the only people who had cared about him, and now they were asking him to be their- their champion, or something.”

It’s too much, Kieren thinks. It’s too much information all at once, too much of Simon’s history to take in when Simon himself had only ever offered little glimpses. He’d mentioned a friend named Julian once or twice, but never where they’d met, and Simon had briefly spoken about the communes when Kieren had asked. But all this? All the ways in which Simon must have suffered before anyone finally accepted him, finally saw his value? It’s too much. Kieren can’t handle it, wants Amy to stop because he feels like this is going to change things and he’s already confused enough already. Kieren opens his mouth to speak.

Amy takes a deep breath. “And then he met you.”

Kieren stops. He can’t think, can’t breathe with all the different emotions running through his head but he stops anyway. Because this is what he knows, this is what he has lived with Simon – this will reassure him of his convictions. Won’t it?

“I mean, at first I thought you two didn’t like each other. Simon used to ask about you more than the others – I just assumed he knew you’d be a hard one to win over – but Jesus, Kieren, I think he loved you from the first day he met you.” She chuckles then and it’s only a bit agonised. “See, Simon’s the devotion type; he deals in absolutes. When he met you he was totally devoted to the ULA and at first I didn’t see how he was changing, but then I saw you two kiss in the street that day.” Kieren freezes. He knew that Amy must have seen them from the way she had asked about Simon all those months ago when he had disappeared. He hadn’t known how she knew. Amy smiles at him.

“I’d never seen Simon in cover up until that day. Not when we’d been travelling, not out in public, _never_. I think it’s what made me sure that he loved you even then. Not that it made it hurt any less, but Kieren I had spent months with Simon and I knew for a fact that there was no way he would ever let that mousse touch his skin. But there he was.” She looks down at her hands where they’re folded in her lap, then back up at Kieren. Her eyes have gone hard. “Even then he loved you, Kieren, so there’s no way he would have taken on that mission without it coming directly from the Prophet himself, and even then not without a fight.” Kieren doesn’t have to ask what mission she’s talking about.

“So you’re saying that I should forgive him for almost murdering me because he was torn between loving me and loving the ULA?” He asks, going for sarcasm but surprised by how rough his voice is, how it cracks on the last few words. Against his knees his hands are trembling. “It’s not really that simple, Amy.”

“I know it’s not Kieren, but that’s not what I’m saying.” As she says it she gets up from the rickety desk chair and crosses the few feet to Kieren, settling on the bed beside him. She waits until he turns to look at her before taking one of her hands in his. “Simon is the kind of person who needs to know he’s loved because he’s never been shown it before.” Kieren remembers similar words coming from Simon’s mouth about Amy what feels like an age ago. Now he realises how Simon must have seen it in her so easily. “The ULA were like his family, Kieren, and no matter how much he loved you, he had been loyal to them for far longer.”

“So, what? Be thankful he was only going to kill me out of loyalty rather than just for fun?” Kieren snaps back, because none of what Amy’s saying seems to be changing anything. If anything it only makes the betrayal worse because Kieren hurts for Simon, bleeds deep in his chest for him even though Simon would have spilled that blood. Amy sighs in frustration.

“No, Kieren, the point is that he _didn’t do it._ ”

“Great, Amy. I mean, there’s still the part where he literally only put the knife down at-”

“For God’s sake, Kieren Walker, _he betrayed them for you._ ” Amy snarls and the shock of hearing her say something so viciously has Kieren silent in a heartbeat. “Simon Monroe, whose own father had disowned him and who believed he was completely unloved, betrayed the only family he had for you. I was a part of the ULA Kieren, I know what they could have done to him for betraying the other disciples, but _betraying the Prophet_?” She makes a noise that’s half shock and half horror. Kieren feels like the world has suddenly tilted the wrong way. “Kieren, traitors to the ULA don’t live. They just don’t. Simon knew that when he took on the mission and he knew it when he threw down that knife and took a goddamn bullet for you.”

There’s something cold slithering through Kieren’s chest, coating his ribs in ice and freezing his heart where it’s silent in his breast. He wants to look at Amy, wants to peer into her eyes and be sure that all she’s saying is true but he can’t move, can’t even glance away from the patch of carpet he’s staring at. This changes everything and yet it doesn’t.

“Why couldn’t Simon have told me any of this when I found the knives?” Kieren asks slowly, though he thinks he knows the answer. Beside him Amy sighs sadly, and it only confirms it.

“Guilt. Pride. Self-preservation.” She says, “If he doesn’t try to explain he can’t be rejected, can’t damage a situation he already thinks he’s ruined. He doesn’t love himself the way he loves you, Kieren. He doesn’t think he deserves you.”

Kieren nods but doesn’t say anything. He still wants to be angry, still is angry to a degree, but deep down he knows that everything Amy’s said is true. There are other things too besides anger now, other emotions vying for their place in his cramped-up chest. Kieren’s stomach churns and his mind whirls and he thinks he might throw up. Everything’s all wrong; he doesn’t know what to do or what to think.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him right now.” Amy says gently, leaning in closer to wrap an arm around Kieren. He hasn’t got any fight left in him for her, feels like an empty insect shell, light and hollow as he falls into Amy’s embrace. “I’m not saying you have to make up with him or even like him right now. But you do need to talk to him.”

Kieren twitches. He can’t even think of looking at Simon, too many feelings battling in his chest and he doesn’t know which one should win; the love? The rage? The betrayal? The pain? The guilt? Beside him Amy shifts, bringing up a hand to tilt Kieren’s chin so he finally looks at her.

“Kieren, if you don’t talk to him he’ll leave. You and I both know that if that happens he won’t come back.” She looks into Kieren’s eyes for a long time but says nothing more. Eventually Kieren lets out a breath, even though it only seems to make his chest feel tighter.

“I know.” He concedes and the smile that lights Amy’s face is so hopeful that it almost hurts to look at. “It’s just- Amy, I don’t know- I can’t-” Kieren stops, taking several long breaths to try to calm himself. The onslaught of emotion from Amy’s story is still overbearing, but Kieren latches onto the anger that’s been burning in his chest since he found the knives, uses it to ground himself. “He was going to kill me, Amy. I know he didn’t, but he was going to, he almost did. How can- Amy, _how can I trust him?_ ”

Amy’s looking at him sadly, almost as if she knows what he’s going to say next. Kieren knows that once he’s said it he can’t take it back – regardless of the fact that it’s not Simon he’s saying it to. He takes a deep breath.

“I’ve already died for love once, Amy. I can’t do it again.”

A strange look crosses Amy’s face, something caught between sadness and knowing, pity and joy. She wraps him in a tight hug and Kieren breathes in the familiar scent of her, the apple of her shampoo and warmth of her skin. In his ear Amy speaks softly.

“Love isn’t easy, Kieren Walker.” She breathes. “Nothing so good ever is.”

Kieren, despite himself, laughs.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost one in the morning and Kieren can’t sleep. Every time he rolls over or flips his pillow he changes his mind.

Facing the wall he decides he’ll go tomorrow, will find Simon and give him… a chance? Kieren’s not sure, but he knows he’ll go to Simon, will give in to the ache in his chest that had settled under the rage only hours after he’d last seen Simon. It’s been five days and that’s five too many, the longest time he’s gone without seeing Simon in months.

Kieren rolls to face the window and decides he’s done. He won’t see Simon, because this is Simon’s mess, his are the bloodied hands, so why should Kieren go to him? What lamb wanders to the wolf’s den and asks why there is blood in their wool? No, the fire of Kieren’s betrayal won’t be doused until Simon comes to soothe it, to fight it of his own accord even though Kieren already knows he’s seen the smoke and is turning away.

He flips back to the wall and wonders how he will stop himself from kissing Simon tomorrow, because all the rage in the world couldn’t stop him from wanting Simon.

Back and forth, back and forth. Kieren tosses and turns for hours, every movement changing his mind again and again until he lies exhausted, staring up at the ceiling. In his gut Kieren knows he will go to the bungalow. Not to forgive Simon, not to take him back into his arms, but because he promised Amy and he knows he needs the closure. He won’t let Simon slip away as if he had never been there in the first place.

Twisting onto his stomach, Kieren tries to ignore the way his chest aches for a back pressed to it. His body hasn’t yet caught up to his mind, still yearns for Simon where his head is cautious. Lying in the dark Kieren has had time to process everything, to think about everything that Amy had said.

_He betrayed them for you._

It keeps coming back to that, those words like divine revelation, a missing puzzle piece that unlocked the whole design. From the beginning Kieren had assumed that Simon’s radical beliefs were just that – beliefs. Sure, he had figured there was some emotional investment there, how could there not be, but he had never known, could never have even guessed how deeply Simon’s ties to the ULA ran. Ties of acceptance, ties of unity, ties of family. He can’t imagine it, these faceless people who shroud around his entire concept of the ULA, but somehow they had been all Simon had – they had given Simon a place to be. A tiny, tiny part of Kieren is grateful for that.

_He betrayed them for you._

Kieren tries to imagine betraying his own family for anyone. He frowns into his pillow.

None of this absolves Simon for what he had done, for coming to the graveyard with a knife meant for Kieren’s back. But it does give it reason. It places a motive behind the mission and on some level Kieren begins to understand just how little he had seen the real point of the issue. Because yes, Simon had almost killed him, but now that Kieren has context, now that he has all the information, it is hard to imagine that Simon would have been able to reject that mission. No, what is important, what he had brushed aside from the start, is that _Simon hadn’t finished it._

Simon’s family had given him a mission but he chose Kieren in the end.

Absently Kieren remembers a quote from a movie he had watched with Jem before he died, remembers how it had twisted through his mind for days afterwards.

_“It is our choices that show who we truly are…”_

Jem had always loved Harry Potter.

Perhaps, Kieren thinks, it was Simon’s choice to drop the knife that he should really have been focussing on all this time. He’s still angry, still hurt, but deep in him a part of Kieren begins to thaw.

Somewhere outside an owl hoots and Kieren shifts again, reaches out of the bed to grab his extra pillow off the floor and pull it to his chest. It’s a long time before he finally sleeps, but he doesn’t roll over again.

 

* * *

 

Kieren wakes up before nine. He dresses quickly and brushes his teeth, then he’s out the door and heading down the road before his family can notice him go. The air is cold, frost clinging to the grass under his feet and Kieren watches his breath puff out in little clouds as he walks the well-known trail to the bungalow. He doesn’t even need to look up now, the path is so familiar he could probably travel it with his eyes shut.

Still, as he rounds the corner into Amy’s street he almost wants to turn back, almost wants to run home and hide. He’s terrified, because no matter what happens Kieren knows that once he steps inside the bungalow things will change. He will leave this limbo of anger and hurt and yearning and have to face Simon.

Kieren keeps moving, keeps his footsteps in time to his heartbeat loud in his ears and-

Kieren stops dead. That can’t be. It’s not possible. He presses a hand to his chest just as the door to the bungalow creaks open.

_Kieren’s heart thumps fiercely against his palm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left, guys! As usual please leave heaps of long comments and critiques, I adore getting your feedback and your responses have been the highlight of my writing this fic over the past two months. I'm hoping the next chapter will be up by next Tuesday, but I have my final three exams before then so it may be a little late. There will also most likely be a prologue, so I've upped the count to 9 chapters, but the ninth one will only be short.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything feels like a dream – disorienting and distant.

In his chest Kieren’s heart is thrumming, every beat like a compressed miracle where it reverberates through his ribcage and against his palm. Absently he can hear Amy’s voice calling him, asking if he’s okay, why he looks like that, but Kieren can’t bring himself to care.

His heart is _beating._

_Kieren Walker is alive._

He holds his breath for a moment and relishes the way his lungs burn, head spinning with it. For so long breathing has been a habit, but now it’s a necessity. The very thought makes a small laugh bubble up out of him. The churning in his stomach, which Kieren had assumed was nerves, he can now identify as hunger gnawing at his insides. The cold breeze, the moisture in the air, he can feel it all. He’s alive.

Kieren looks up at Amy, unable to keep the disbelieving smile off his face. The concern in her eyes shifts where she’s standing in the doorway, twisting into something more like confusion. She takes a halting step forward, hair whipping in the wind.

“Kier, your eyes…” She murmurs, gaze locked on his. Kieren feels his smile widen. “Those aren’t contacts.” Amy says then, voice edged with wonder and then she’s in his arms, laughing and hugging Kieren for all she’s worth. He wraps his arms around her and feels the tickle of her hair on his neck. He laughs.

“Amy,” He says, “Amy, Amy, Amy.” In his arms she just clings on tighter, a watery laugh filtering up.

When they finally pull apart Amy’s beaming up at him, eyes shining and cheeks pink. She looks beautiful as she reaches up to brush at Kieren’s hair, touch the side of his warm face. Their gazes stay locked, Amy drinking in the deep brown of Kieren’s doe eyes.

They’re _alive._

“I guess we’re not best dead friends forever anymore, huh?” Kieren jokes eventually, voice a little throaty but the silence between them still comfortable. Amy grins, shakes her head.

“Nah, we’re still BDFFs. It’s forever Kieren Walker, living or dead.”

Kieren laughs, joy bubbling in his chest like helium and he feels as if he can finally understand the cheer Amy always seems to radiate. All those weeks of wondering what would happen, how coming back would affect him, and now that he’s alive all he feels is delight. It’s only when he hugs Amy again, the two of them laughing, that Kieren notices they have an audience.

The thin curtain of the bungalow living room swishes back into place, but not quickly enough for Kieren to miss Simon’s pale face gazing out of it.

Something in Kieren shifts and he reluctantly disentangles himself from Amy. Despite the shock and thrill of his new life, Kieren came here for a reason and glimpsing Simon reminds him of it. Still, the anger that had been boiling in his gut for the past few days seems suddenly dampened and Kieren briefly wonders if it’s just the joy of the moment or something else that has done it. Amy’s makes a face and him and Kieren rubs her arm reassuringly.

“I have to…” He nods towards the bungalow.

“I know. Give him a chance, yeah?” She implores, eyes searching. “He loves you.”

Kieren nods. “Yeah, I know.”

Amy follows him into the bungalow but only to grab her coat so she can head off to the Wilson’s. Kissing him on the cheek before she leaves, she spares a lingering look for where Simon’s bedroom door stands ajar, and not for the first time Kieren considers just how much Amy loves Simon as well. Sure, Kieren’s her BDFF, but Simon Monroe holds a special place in Amy’s heart too and seeing the two guys hurt because of each other… well, no doubt it’s taken its toll on Amy too. She had looked _so tired_ the day before. But she gives him a small smile before she goes and Kieren watches the door fall shut behind her.

Heading further down the hall, Kieren can hear Simon pacing in his room and he hesitates. Suddenly the situation becomes very, very real. Kieren had almost forgotten how it feels to have his heart lurch in his chest. His heart rate kicks up a notch and a thin veil of panic seems to settle on him, the anger he’s been carrying around like a lead weight for days suddenly unbearably heavy.

 _Why are you here? What are you doing?_ Kieren asks himself. The uncertainty that’s clogging his throat swells, and for some reason he thinks back to what Rowan had told him what feels like forever ago; _keep it simple._

Simple. Kieren can do simple. He drags in a deep breath, feels his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs and begins to walk towards where he can hear Simon still pacing.

 _Simon kept knives under the bed you shared._ Step.

 _Simon was going to kill you._ Step.

 _Simon betrayed the ULA for you_. Step.

 _Simon betrayed you._ Step.

 _Simon… Simon loves you._ Step.

Kieren’s right outside Simon’s door now, can catch glimpses of his tall form as he passes back and forth. His hands are trembling violently, but the way he keeps shaking them makes Kieren think it’s more than just biological. Kieren’s chest tightens but not in anger. Raising a hand to the wooden door, Kieren hesitates.

_Simon did all of that, and still you hurt for him, still you crave him._

_Still you love him._

Kieren pushes the door open. “Simon? Can we talk?”

Across the room Simon freezes, his back still to Kieren and shoulders impossibly tense. His hands flex slowly at his sides but don’t stop shivering, and Kieren can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Kieren takes a step into the room, then another, until he’s only a few feet away from Simon’s broad back. It’s only now that Kieren notices the changes in the room, minimal as they are. The few books Simon had piled on the bedside table are gone, the photo of him and his mother disappeared from the dresser. A single suitcase and a backpack sit by the closet, which Kieren suspects he would find empty if he looked inside.

Simon’s getting ready to leave. It sends a stab of pain through Kieren’s chest, right into his newly beating heart.

“Simon, look at me?” He asks steadily, turning back to Simon’s sloped shoulders. They shudder for a split second, then straighten.

Simon turns around and Kieren drinks in the sight of him like a man on the brink of dehydration. His eyes are downcast but Kieren can see the dark circles under them, the lines of a frown etched into his skin as if they were carved into marble, solid and unmoveable. Instantly Kieren wants to trace those lines with his fingertips, wants to smooth them away and kiss Simon, force that frown off his mouth with lips and tongue. But he can’t. Because that’s not why he’s here, no matter how tangled his emotions are. There’s still anger, still hurt, but now Kieren’s unsure of whom it’s really directed at, the strength of his craving to comfort Simon almost overwhelming.

Simon’s eyes are still on the floor and Kieren doesn’t know what to say. Glancing around as if for inspiration, Kieren spots the suitcase again and he figures it’s as good a start as any.

“Amy said you’re planning on leaving.”

For a moment Simon doesn’t respond. Then he mumbles a hesitant “Yeah.” but still doesn’t look up. Kieren frowns.

“Don’t.” Kieren’s a little startled with how vehement the word sounds bursting from his lips, shocked by how deeply he means it. Simon must be too because he finally glances up, eyes lingering on Kieren’s mouth before flitting up to meet his gaze. Almost in an instant his eyebrows are drawing up, frown turning devastated, as he takes in the chocolate brown of Kieren’s irises.

“You’re alive.” Simon breathes, awestruck, before seeming to remember himself. He blinks rapidly, glancing back away from Kieren.

“Don’t leave, please.” Kieren repeats, a little softer.

“Kieren, I can’t stay here.” Simon says almost pleadingly. “I’m- it’s not safe, not for you or Amy. I just…” He exhales as if he’s in pain, like the imploring look Kieren has him pinned with physically hurts. “It’s better this way.”

Kieren’s not sure if it’s the phrasing or something else, but the words stir a memory of cave walls and a swiss army knife, darkness all around him. A conversation in Bill Macy’s truck in the dead of night. He grits his teeth. Objectively Kieren knows it’s not the same, knows the situations are completely different, but he can’t do it again. He can’t have other people deciding what is better anymore. Rick had tried that and look how it had ended.

“I want you to stay.” He says, “I’m sick of people deciding what’s best for me, Simon.”

Simon looks even more agonised. “I- Kieren, I nearly killed you.” His voice wavers a little on the last words but Kieren shakes his head, taking a step closer to where Simon stands rooted to the ground. Simon doesn’t back away.

“I know you did. I’m still really- we still have to deal with that, because I’m still angry.” It’s the truth and the look on Simon’s face says he knows it. “But I want you to stay. Regardless of all that, I want you here.”

“You don’t mean that, Kieren.”

“Like hell I don’t. Simon, I am so, so mad that you lied to me. Like, I genuinely don’t think I can express just how pissed off I am that you thought this was something that you had to, let alone could, keep from me.” Opposite him Simon’s eyes have gone grave, but he must notice that Kieren never says that it’s _Simon_ he’s mad at. “And yeah, I’m a little afraid of it, what you could have done, but Jesus Simon – that doesn’t mean I want you to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

“Kieren…” Simon murmurs, but Kieren’s having none of it, simply stares Simon down across the short distance between them.

“If you want to leave – and I mean if you really, truly want to get out of Roarton – I’m not going to stop you. But I want you here, with me.” For a second Simon’s eyes flit away, so Kieren waits until he looks back before speaking again. “But if you think you have to leave because of me, don’t. Because I want you here.”

Simon’s like a balloon that’s been punctured, suddenly deflating and turning to sink down onto the bed, head in his hands. For a second Kieren considers joining him there, but thinks better of it.

There’s a long moment of silence broken only by their soft breathing, Simon’s muffled into his palms. Then he scrubs his hands over his face and exhales heavily.

“Kieren, I can’t-” He hesitates, as if trying to find the right words, “How can I stay? The only people I know are you and Amy, and really she’s closer to you than she is to me. What am I supposed to do without anyone?”

Kieren frowns, trying to figure out what Simon’s saying because frankly it’s not making any sense. Sure, Amy will be off to university soon so they’ll be seeing a lot less of her, but why would Kieren be- oh.

“Simon I’m not dumping you.” Kieren blurts incredulously. For his part Simon looks a mixture of alarmed and confused, finally staring up at Kieren from his perch on the bed.

“What?”

“I didn’t come here to- to break up with you or something.” Kieren repeats, but it only makes Simon look more confused. “I’m here to talk to you, to- to figure this whole mess out.”

“Kieren, I was going to kill you.” He says for the second time.

“Yes, I know. You were going to kill me, I’m still really pissed off, but Jesus Simon, I’m not here to twist the proverbial knife.” The way Simon flinches tells Kieren he probably could have used a different metaphor, but the flicker of hope in Simon’s eyes makes up for it. Moving across the room, Kieren drags the chair from the foot of the bed to the side, settling down in it so that he no longer towers over Simon.

“I’m not sure how to…” Simon trails off, gesturing vaguely between himself and Kieren. Frankly, Kieren’s not entirely sure what they’re doing, let alone how to do it, either. Where does he start? What do they say? How is something like this dealt with? Kieren lets out a long sigh.

“Amy told me about how you joined the ULA,” He says eventually, “About your dad and everything. I’m not sure- it was probably wrong of her to tell me, but I figure in the interest of honesty you should know that I know. And that… well, I guess it kind of changes what I- how I see the whole thing.”

Across from him Simon has gone rigid, like he’s waiting for some sort of impact, but Kieren doesn’t say anything else. Still, Simon only relaxes minutely and even then he doesn’t speak, leaving Kieren to fill in the silence. Kieren leans back in his chair a little, suddenly exhausted.

“Simon, you have to understand what it’s like from my perspective; you’re with this person that you think you can trust so completely, someone who you really, really care about and then everything you thought you knew suddenly changes.” He laughs a little, though it’s mirthless. “I was just getting used to the idea of being alive, you know, really being alive again – I had all these ideas about what it would be like, you and me, and then to suddenly find out I almost didn’t get the chance? It’s horrible, Simon. Horrible.”

On the bed Simon looks incredibly guilty, eyes downcast and fingers trembling again. Kieren’s not sure if it’s just the normal tremor or if his words were strong enough to have such an effect.

“But they were important to you too. The ULA was important to you, and no matter how much I disagree with it, I can’t change that or take it away from you. I’m glad that you’re not a part of it anymore, but I still get that you were with them long before you were with me. So, I get why you were loyal to them, I guess.”

“I don’t forgive you for what you were going to do.” He says plainly, neither gentle nor harsh, and the self-deprecating smile on Simon’s face twists a strange, ugly feeling in Kieren’s chest. “But I… well, I kind of understand why you almost did it.”

Simon’s eyes flick up from under his lashes, surprised but still hesitant, as if Kieren’s going to rip away this seeming olive branch at any moment. When Kieren just watches him quietly Simon’s shoulders begin to lose a little of their tension, but he doesn’t speak immediately, waits it out a little longer before saying anything.

“Why?” He asks softly. Kieren shrugs.

“Because I know what it’s like to not fit anywhere. I know what it’s like to be devoted to the only people, or person, who makes you feel like you’re worth anything.” He smiles sadly then, brushes fingertips over the sleeves of his hoodie absently. “I killed for them too.” Glancing up he sees Simon’s eyes are fixed on his wrists where the scars lie hidden under soft fleece sleeves. Simon looks conflicted. “Simon, what I’m trying to say is that you almost killing me isn’t the issue here.” Kieren pauses, “Well, it is, but that’s not- it’s not the reason I’m so angry.”

“You need more?” Simon replies, leaving the ‘ _I have a list, if you want it’_ unspoken.

“You lied to me. You broke my trust.” Kieren hesitates then, unsure of whether the next clause might be inappropriate. This is totally, completely not about their sex life, but Simon keeping things from Kieren is kind of a trend there. This is all or nothing, Kieren figures. “And it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” Simon flinches.

“I’m sorry.” He says feebly.

“Simon, you told me you could keep me separate from your beliefs. I just, I really want this to work, but I can’t be with someone who I can’t trust to let me make my own decisions. And that means telling me things, Simon, even when they might hurt me.” He grimaces then, “Because when you don’t I just find out eventually and it’s one hundred times worse.”

Simon nods forlornly but says nothing.

Kieren waits for a few moments, but Simon’s just staring at the floor again, frowning to himself and staying silent. The familiar frustration builds in Kieren’s gut again, bubbles up his throat.

“That’s it? You’re sorry? Nothing else?” He asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Kieren.”

“How about that you won’t do it again? That there’s a reason you never tell me things? Maybe you could explain why you seem to think you have to deal with everything on your own?” He’s leaning forward now, irritated and itching with it while Simon looks on pitifully. “Jesus Christ, Simon, give me something to work with!”

Simon looks like he’s going to deflect again, or maybe even argue, but then something in his posture shifts. It’s almost as if he’s giving in, his whole body canting forward a little. He takes a slow, shuddering breath.

“I can’t… I can’t promise that I’ll never lie to you again.” He begins, and Kieren’s more than ready to leave but then Simon continues. “I can’t promise you that because I know it’ll just set me up to break your trust again when I do lie, so I won’t promise it. But… I will try. I’ll do everything in my power to be honest with you, even- even if it’s not in your best interest.”

“I think what’s in my best interest is for me to decide, Simon. You have to tell me things so I can figure out how we deal with them.” Kieren says, but doesn’t rebuke the rest of Simon’s statement. Honestly, he sees the logic to what Simon has said, and no matter how much Kieren wants a relationship where there are never any secrets, never any lies, maybe it’s naïve to think that’s a realistic possibility.

“I don’t tell you things for the same reason you don’t tell me things.” Simon says then, a little firmer than before, and that gives Kieren pause. Sure, there are things he hasn’t told Simon, but none of them are actually significant to their relationship. Well, kind of, but discussing the ex-not-quite-boyfriend who essentially lead to your suicide isn’t big on Kieren’s list of date conversation topics. “And because telling people things is… it’s hard for me, Kieren.” Simon adds.

“It’s hard for everyone, Simon.” Kieren laughs, not quite as hollow this time, “Being honest with people is really goddamn difficult, but you do it when you love them.” Simon’s head snaps up at that, eyes a little wider as they search Kieren’s face for something. It takes Kieren a second to realise when caused the reaction, and though he feels his face go a little warm, he doesn’t take it back. After a moment Simon blinks, a tiny, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay,” He says softly, “Okay.”

It feels like something has shifted between them, something small and not entirely noticeable, like a pebble tumbling from Hadrian’s Wall, but something nonetheless. Hesitating for a moment, Kieren slowly leans back in his chair, pushing his legs forward until his knees bump lightly at Simon’s. It’s nothing big, but it’s… well, it feels almost like a relief to be touching Simon again, even in such a simple way. The look on Simon’s face says he feels the same.

“I’m still mad.” Kieren clarifies, to which Simon nods. “This isn’t something that’s going to just go away, okay?”

“I know.” Simon concedes.

“I’m not sure how long it’s going to take for me to trust you again, Simon. And that’s not because I don’t want to,” He reaches out to place gentle fingertips on Simon’s knee, knowing that the look of bliss at the corners of Simon’s expression aren’t imagined, “Because I really do want to. I wish we could just go back to the way we were right now. But it’s not that easy, so it’s going to take time.”

“As long as you need.”

Kieren pauses at the eagerness tinting Simon’s voice. “You’ll stay here?” He asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Yes. As long as you want me here.” Simon says with total conviction, “I promise.”

Kieren spends several moments just watching Simon then. In a sense he’s trying to gauge Simon’s emotional state, maybe try to figure out how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking. A quieter, deeper part of Kieren’s brain says that’s he’s really just taking Simon in, not realising how much he had missed the sight of him. Kieren chooses to ignore that part. When the silence stretches a little too long Simon begins to shift restlessly.

“What?” Kieren asks after a minute, slightly concerned by Simon’s twitchiness.

“It’s just…” Simon’s mouth twists, almost as if he’s unwilling to say what it is he wants for fear of it reigniting Kieren’s anger, “Can I touch you?” The question throws Kieren a little, but he knows it’s not sexual, knows Simon just craves contact, so he nods once.

Ever so slowly, Simon reaches down to brush his fingertips over Kieren’s where they still rest on Simon’s knee. The feeling is electric, Simon’s frigid skin colder than ever against Kieren’s newly living body and he feels a tiny shiver run up his arm. Simon is too absorbed to notice, fingers gently tracing Kieren’s knuckles until he flips his hand, offering Simon his palm. For a moment Simon simply trails the lines from Kieren’s forefinger to his thumb, then he weaves their fingers together, clasping Kieren’s hand in his. At the same time his other hand comes up, trembling and hesitating before barely grazing Kieren’s cheek.

After a second of deliberation Kieren leans into the touch, eyes still on Simon’s face while he focuses on where his fingertips meet Kieren’s warm, creamy skin.

“You’re alive. You’re so beautiful.” Simon murmurs and Kieren lets him.

Simon’s fingers ghost across Kieren’s cheek and under his brown eyes, over the line of his nose and along his jaw. When he skims his hand down Kieren’s neck, however, Simon hesitates. He must feel Kieren’s pulse there, must know what it means. Deliberately Kieren reaches up with the hand not still clasped in Simon’s to draw down the zipper of his hoodie, exposing the thin shirt underneath. Simon’s eyes flicker to his, questioning, but when Kieren just continues to watch him Simon lets his hand trail lower, palm flattening against Kieren’s left ribs.

Kieren can see the moment when Simon feels the beating of his heart.

 _“Oh.”_ Simon whispers, so soft and amazed that for a moment Kieren forgets the hurt and betrayal, leaning in to press his lips gently to Simon’s.

It barely lasts three seconds, just the dry touch of mouths with hardly any pressure, but when Kieren pulls away Simon’s eyes are still shut, his breathing slow from between slightly parted lips. His hand stays on Kieren’s chest, feeling his heartbeat.

“I missed you.” Kieren admits quietly after a moment.

They both know that things have changed, that it’s going to take a long time to fix what has been damaged. Kieren honestly isn’t sure if things can go back to the way they were, but he’s willing to work for something close, something that lets him love Simon in the way he wants to. It will be hard, and it will hurt, but he’s willing to try.

Across from him Simon is still silent, eyes closed while he feels Kieren’s heart beating.

 

* * *

 

When night falls Kieren takes Simon to the creek down by the woods.

He doesn’t tell Simon about the cave, doesn’t glance at the trail off the riverbank that would have them there in mere minutes. Instead he takes Simon’s hand and leads him to the edge of the water, watching the way the stars seems to quiver and leap on its surface.

Simon doesn’t say anything as he tosses the leather pouch into the stream. He doesn’t utter a word as they stand there side by side, watching it bob and sink as its carried away. Once it’s out of sight though, Kieren leans in a little closer, lets his arm brush Simon’s.

The way Simon inhales makes Kieren think of breaching the surface of the water after nearly drowning.

 

* * *

 

For the next few weeks they take things slow.

Amy and Phillip have started to sort things out for university, going on trips to the city to look at flats almost every other day, so Kieren and Simon tag along. Sometimes they stay with the other couple, nodding and laughing when Amy points out horrible wallpapers or Phillip trips on wonky staircases. Other times they head off on their own, usually finding somewhere quiet and warm to sit together, often ending up on a park bench while Kieren soaks in the feeling of sun on his skin. Simon’s still cold though his hands tremble near constantly, but he seems to enjoy watching Kieren experience everything he had forgotten about being alive. Amy and Phillip often find them like that; Kieren with his head tilted back, eyes closed and basking in the sun; Simon with his face turned towards Kieren, cherishing the glow on his flaxen lashes. They never say anything, but Amy smiles fondly at them every time.

Kieren doesn’t kiss Simon as often. Part of it is because it feels different now, familiar yet changed like a favourite shirt that has had a rip mended, the patch of skin that used to be exposed suddenly covered up. The other part is because Kieren has always known Simon was more invested, so wholly and completely wrapped up in their relationship that it was almost impossible to keep it balanced. After everything that had happened, balance is really what they need. So for every kiss that Simon gives him Kieren offers one in return – not always immediately, but equally nonetheless. He throws in a few others from time to time, can’t help it, but slowly Simon learns to kiss him more freely and that’s what’s important.

They hold hands whenever they go out. Neither is sure which one started it, but it’s just what they do, so they don’t think on it to hard.

Fighting is a little more common now. Kieren’s still hurt, regardless of how much he tries to move past it and sometimes things set him off a little easier than they used to. He always apologises when he knows he’s been oversensitive or jumped to conclusions, but it doesn’t make either of them feel any better. But Simon is ever forgiving and Kieren honestly wonders how he does it.

It’s different when they fuck.

At first they don’t, keeping things fairly tame and pulling away before anything gets heated, but before long the cravings grow too strong and they end up rutting together in the bungalow hallway. They’re too needy, too messy with want to try anything complicated, so Kieren gets a hand on Simon’s cock and sucks his own fingers into his mouth before slipping them around and pressing two into Simon. He shivers and gasps in Kieren’s arms, hands loose around Kieren’s neck, but he keeps kissing him throughout, mouth going slack and wet against Kieren’s jaw when Simon sighs and comes. Kieren jerks himself off then, hand fast and tight around his own cock, but he doesn’t pull his fingers out of Simon, keeps making Simon shudder and moan until Kieren comes in hot, wet streaks across their stomachs. Simon looks down at it in awe, trails hesitant fingers through the mess on his navel, but says nothing.

Even after that, when the floodgates open and they go back to having regular sex, desperate for each other, it’s always restrained. The second drawer of Simon’s bedside table is only ever opened for lube, and the words ‘good boy’ go unuttered in their bedroom.

Kieren won’t stay at the bungalow overnight, though he does linger there until the late hours of the evening. More often than not Amy’s out at the Wilson’s, so it’s just him and Simon curled up on the couch watching movies, Kieren’s stomach rumbling when he frequently forgets to eat. Simon always gets up to get him something, scavenging popcorn and muffins from where Amy has them stashed in the cupboard. He smiles when he offers them to Kieren, and Kieren always smiles back, making sure their fingers brush when he accepts the food, scooting over to offer Simon a space closer to his side.

For all the nights they spend in front of the tv, however, Simon never once tries to lay his head against Kieren’s thighs.

 

* * *

 

“Mum’s been asking about you and Simon.” Jem says through a mouthful of pasta one night, the two of them camped out on her bedroom floor. They’ve been going through outfits for an ‘occasion’ Jem refuses to elaborate on, Kieren giving his frankly atrocious fashion advice while their parents are out for a date night.

“Yeah?” Kieren hums absently, still eyeing Jem’s favourite heels with suspicion. She doesn’t wear them often, but the sharp studs along the stiletto make him wary. He takes another bite of his dinner, which Sue left in little Tupperware bowls for them to reheat.

“Yeah.” Jem replies, watching him, “She keeps asking me if it’s okay for her to invite Simon over for dinner or not. I mean, you didn’t really say much but we all pretty much know shit went down last month.” She pauses then, considering. “Well, I’m not sure dad knows. He’s probably oblivious to be honest.”

Kieren chuckles at that, still surveying the wide array of dresses and skirts spread across Jem’s floor for consideration. After a while though he notices Jem’s silence, turning to look at her. She’s watching him intently.

“What?”

“Well, what should I tell mum?” She asks cautiously, “Are you and Simon, y’know… good?” The question hangs in the air between them and for a moment Kieren wonders.

He and Simon not the same as they were before, not by any stretch of the imagination. But at the same time, Kieren’s starting to realise that maybe that’s okay. He spends more time apart from Simon now, enjoys long nights watching shitty cartoon reruns with Jem or doing things as mundane as going shopping with Sue. Sometimes he heads over to the Wilson’s with Amy and joins in with Shirley’s embarrassing stories about Phillip’s teen years. It’s not that he actively avoids Simon, but perhaps they’re not so dependant on one another anymore. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

“Kier?” Jem says, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. Kieren smiles at her.

“Yeah, it’s good. I’ll ask Simon if he wants to come over some time this week, surprise mum and everything.” He says, then nods towards a sparkly, sleeveless dress lying out by the foot of Jem’s bed. “And I think that one’s best for whatever this mystery occasion is.”

Jem grins. “Yeah?”

“Of course, it shows off your mad guns.” He smirks back, poking Jem’s toned bicep. It earns him a bubbling laugh and a solid punch to his left shoulder.

The next night Kieren isn’t even a little surprised when a skinny brown girl with short, wavy hair shows up at the door looking for Jem. Morgan has pretty green eyes and an easy smile, her canines pushed out just enough to make her look a little wild despite her soft face. She has a bouquet of red carnations that she hands Jem with a blush, then they’re out the door and on their way, Kieren watching them go with a smile.

In the living room Steve mutters forlornly about grandchildren and Sue gives him a sharp smack upside the head.

 

* * *

 

Kieren’s not around when Simon blacks out.

Amy calls him from the bungalow, reassures him that everything’s okay and that he doesn’t need to come over if he doesn’t want to. The way Kieren’s stomach lurches and goes cold has him running across Roarton in an instant, heart thundering in his chest until he reaches the bungalow, barging in to find Simon propped up in his armchair looking a little dazed. Instantly the irrational fear dissipates, but Kieren crosses the room quickly, taking Simon’s pale face in his warm hands and kissing his forehead gently.

Simon looks a little bemused but doesn’t complain, and Kieren can’t help but wonder if it’s from the seizure of Kieren’s behaviour. He doesn’t care, really, just links his fingers with Simon’s and sits by his side for the rest of the day.

He realises just how terrified Simon must have been when Kieren had blacked out, and kisses Simon’s knuckles in silent apology.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost like déjà vu, Kieren thinks, when Simon sinks to his knees over a month after the knives.

They’re in the kitchen washing up, Simon drying while Kieren cleans the plates from his meal and trading small, smiling kisses from time to time. While Kieren’s unplugging the sink and slipping off his rubber gloves, however, Simon crowds up beside him, pressing tentative lips to the fluttering pulse in his neck. Kieren stills, leaving Simon to decide what he wants to do before he begins to trail his mouth down Kieren’s throat, hands moving to Kieren’s hips to turn him. Going willingly, Kieren twists until the kitchen counter is pressed to the small of his back, Simon’s neck craned down so he can nip and lick at Kieren’s adam’s apple while keeping their bodies pushed together from knee to chest.

“I never knew doing the dishes got you so hot,” Kieren jokes, “I’ll have to get you on drying duty more often.” Against his neck Simon hums distractedly.

The impulse is too strong to resist so Kieren catches Simon’s lips, draws him into a deep, searching kiss that steals the breath from his lungs. He crowds in closer, whole body pressed to Kieren’s and it’s not hard to figure out how much Simon wants this from the bulge in his trousers. Kieren slips his hands down to palm at Simon’s ass through his jeans, squeezing and pulling him in closer while running his tongue along the back of Simon’s teeth, enjoying the little noise he makes in response. In his own jeans Kieren is growing hard already, the way Simon’s grinding their hips together minutely making it easy to get all the way there.

Drawing back just far enough to mouth down Simon’s jaw, Kieren smirks before moving to suck against the hollow of his throat. Simon’s skin had started gaining colour a few days ago and Kieren knows he can mark it now, sucks and bites at Simon’s neck until a soft red mark appears. A soft noise slips from Simon’s throat and he begins to roll his hips forward more urgently, making them both moan quietly at the new friction. Sliding his hands under Simon’s jeans, Kieren runs fingertips over the cleft of his ass through the thin cotton of his boxers, but Simon seems to have other plans.

Despite rocking back into the touch, Simon pulls away, dislodging Kieren’s mouth from his throat before slowly dropping to his knees, eyes fixed on Kieren’s. His hands rub gently at Kieren’s thighs through denim, but he hesitates, still gazing up at Kieren.

“Please?” He asks after a moment and it throws Kieren back to what feels like the same moment months ago; Simon on his knees, eyes locked with Kieren’s as he asked for something he wasn’t sure he could have. The only difference…

Kieren moves his hands from where they hang limply at his sides to thread through Simon’s hair. “Are you sure about this?” He asks.

“Yes.” Simon says, nuzzling a little at Kieren’s hip, “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah.” Kieren replies softly.

In an instant Simon’s got Kieren’s jeans undone, pushing them and his pants down his thighs so that Kieren’s pink cock springs free. The head is flushed red and wet with pre-come but Simon presses his face to the juncture of Kieren’s thighs first, licking at the sensitive skin there and sucking small pink marks into the delicate flesh. After a moment he moves down, running his tongue wetly across Kieren’s balls and drawing them into his mouth in turn, suckling at them to make Kieren groan lowly.

“Don’t tease.” Kieren says, the authoritative tone almost surprising him, but the second he’s said it the role is almost too easy to slip back into. He holds off though, gripping Simon’s hair a little tighter and drawing him back just far enough to hold Simon’s gaze. “Safe word?” Kieren asks gently.

“Yeats.” Simon replies, voice breathy and lips wet where they’re parted.

“Colour.”

“Green.”

The way Simon says it is almost a moan of relief, so when Kieren loosens his grip enough to let Simon move again he’s sure to run fingertips soothingly along the back of Simon’s scalp. Leaning back in, Simon runs his lips along the underside of Kieren’s cock, letting the head brush his cheek and smear pre-come down to his mouth. Kieren shudders at the sight, cock twitching, and Simon doesn’t make it any easier when he slips his tongue out to taste the wetness on his lips. He smiles up at Kieren a little before turning back to his cock, flicking little kitten licks along the head before pressing his tongue firmly to the slit, Kieren gasping sharply at the sensation.

Despite enjoying the tease, Kieren knows what Simon has asked of him so he tightens his grip in Simon’s hair and angles his head until he can push his cock between Simon’s lips and into the tight wetness of his mouth. Simon sucks eagerly, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue over the head, but Kieren pulls back again before he can get too into it, resting his cock against Simon’s wet lips.

“I’m going to fuck your throat,” Kieren says breathily, a little embarrassed by how quickly Simon’s submission has him falling apart, “And then I’d like to come on your face.” The noise that rolls from Simon’s lips is one Kieren hasn’t heard in a long time, high and needy as he pushes his hips forward against the air where he’s kneeling. Still, Kieren wants to make sure. “Colour?”

“Still green.” Simon assures, and Kieren believes him.

Urging Simon’s head forward again, Kieren tries a few short, shallow thrusts into his inviting mouth to allow him time to adjust. When Simon’s fingers begin to fidget and trail along Kieren’s bare thighs, however, Kieren pushes in fully, moving slowly until Simon’s nose is brushing the blonde hairs at the base of his cock. He holds Simon there for a moment, then lets him slip back before thrusting in again, this time a little harder and for a little longer, a groan slipping from Kieren’s lips. Below him Simon hums, the vibrations sending sparks of electricity along Kieren’s spine and he pushes in deeper, Simon gagging for only a second before Kieren’s pulling back.

They quickly set up a rhythm, Kieren testing Simon’s limits until he’s thrusting sharply into Simon’s mouth with reckless abandon, hands tight in Simon’s black hair. Kieren’s heart thunders in his chest, blood loud in his ears and he can feel his face and chest heating with a flush that Simon eyeing the pink skin lustily. For his part Simon hollows his cheeks as much as he can, swallows and works his throat around Kieren’s cock, but most he just moans, lets the feel of it make Kieren’s breath hitch and his hips stutter.

“God, Simon.” Kieren breathes, “You’re so good for me, I had almost forgotten how beautiful you are like this.”

It had been easy to forget just how much they fed off this, how much they craved it. Honestly it’s unsurprising that he’s quickly on edge, balls drawing up tight to his body while he presses his cock deeper down Simon’s throat. Pre-come and saliva mix and drip down Simon’s chin, but he appears not to care, leaning eagerly into Kieren’s every thrust. He can see Simon’s hips shifting restlessly, can feel the little noises Simon’s letting out, but it’s not until Simon lets his eyes flutter shut and tries to swallow Kieren even further down that he knows he’s almost there.

Pulling away smoothly, Kieren takes one hand from Simon’s hair to grip his cock and position it at Simon’s bottom lip, jerking himself tight and quick. At his feet Simon gasps and moans, voice rough from deepthroating and eyes fluttering shut while his fingers twitch on Kieren’s thighs, clearly eager to get a hand on himself if the tent in his jeans is anything to go by. Kieren tightens his fist, focussing solely on the flushed red head of his cock.

“Simon, _oh fuck_.” Kieren gasps, then he’s tipping over the edge, orgasm tearing through him like a current as he comes thick and wet across Simon’s lips and cheeks. Breathing heavily, Kieren keeps stroking himself until it begins to hurt, thighs trembling while he gazes down at the unimaginably arousing sight of Simon covered in his come.

Letting go of himself, Kieren waits until Simon’s white eyes flicker open before trailing his fingers through the come on Simon’s pale skin and then slipping those fingers into Simon’s mouth. Groaning happily, Simon licks Kieren’s fingers clean once, twice, three times before his face is clean, the fervour with which he does it making Kieren’s cock twitch. Simon just gazes up at him adoringly.

“Bedroom,” Kieren instructs breathlessly, “Now.”

Simon’s up and pacing to the bedroom in a heartbeat, Kieren following once he’s pulled up his boxers and jeans. Arriving in Simon’s doorway, Kieren finds him already stripped and kneeling on the bed, eyes wide and expectant. Raising a brow, Kieren takes the time to undress himself, folding his clothes neatly and laying them on the dresser, enjoying the way Simon shifts restlessly while he waits. Being alive means that Kieren’s refractory period is back to normal and he really won’t be getting it up again anytime soon, but still he appreciates the eroticism of Simon’s eagerness. Turning back, Kieren notices something he hadn’t seen on the way in and his eyes widen at the implication.

Simon’s hands are behind his back, crossed delicately at the wrist as if bound.

Breath catching in his throat, Kieren wanders forward, expecting Simon’s arms to shift at any moment but they stay where they are. As he reaches the bed Kieren leans in to brush reverent fingers along the black veins of Simon’s wrists, barely glancing at the ragged scar on Simon’s back where it ends just below them. Simon doesn’t flinch, just tilts his hands a little so that Kieren’s fingertips skim over the sensitive skin a little more firmly. In Kieren’s mind swirl images of Simon bound, pale wrists tied with red ropes and elaborate knots or tethered to the bedpost with soft leather cuffs. Swallowing, Kieren takes a moment to recompose himself. Then he wraps his slim fingers around Simon’s wrists, feeling the tremor that runs through them.

“Is this something you want?” He asks quietly.

“Yes.”

“Because I want it?” Kieren inquires, because he knows Simon has seen the sketches of ropes, loose drawings of bound wrists and ankles. Even when they wrote their lists, so very long ago, Simon had commented on Kieren’s ‘yes’ to ropes and bindings.

“Yes and no.” Simon replies a little tentatively. “I want to make you happy, but I also want it for myself.” As he says it Kieren climbs onto the bed behind him, crawling forward to kneel with his chin to Simon’s shoulder. “I trust you.” Simon says quietly.

For a moment Kieren’s overwhelmingly, unimaginably tempted. But this is the first time they’ve done this in what feels like an age, and Kieren knows better than to change things in the middle of a scene.

“Not tonight.” He murmurs to Simon, leaning in to brush fleeting kisses along Simon’s neck and shoulder. Kieren squeezes his wrists a little tighter. “But soon. And thank you.” He lays more kisses to Simon’s nape, travelling all the way to his other shoulder and then down to the little bullet-shaped scar. “You’re always so good for me.” He breathes.

Simon shivers but doesn’t complain and when Kieren hooks his chin over Simon’s shoulder to glance down at his purple-flushed cock where it bobs invitingly. Kieren licks a long stripe up Simon’s neck, breathes against the wet skin to make Simon shiver before drawing away.

“On all fours.” He then instructs, hands slipping down to Simon’s hips to direct him towards the head of the bed. As Simon repositions himself Kieren moves to the side, opening the second drawer of the nightstand and fishing out the little vibrator there. Dropping it onto the bed by Simon’s knee, he runs tender hands along Simon’s thighs and ass, spreading long fingers across Simon’s pale skin. The contrast is striking, Kieren’s flesh pink and flushed against Simon’s cold, white body.

“Colour?” Kieren asks, fingers just brushing Simon’s hole. Simon’s hips cant back a little.

“Green.”

“Tell me when you’re close.”

With that Kieren takes a firm grip of Simon’s cheeks and leans in, licking a long, wet stripe from his balls to his tailbone. Simon jolts, hips rocking away then back against Kieren’s mouth while Simon lets out a startled moan. Holding back a smirk, Kieren sets to work running his tongue along Simon’s perineum and hole, alternating between slow, light strokes and quick, firm laps. Above him Simon’s hands are fisted in the sheets, little surprised noises filtering back from where he’s pillowed his forehead against his folded arms. The sounds are encouraging, prompting Kieren to lick and suck at Simon’s rim, trailing the delicate skin with just the tip of his tongue before closing his lips over it and lapping wetly at Simon’s hole. Simon just whines softly.

For several long minutes Kieren licks and sucks at Simon’s hole, moving down from time to time to mouth at his balls and the soft skin of his thighs. For every swipe of Kieren’s tongue Simon’s hips tilt back, chasing the sensation of wetness and heat. Kieren’s hands spread Simon wider, the debauched position making Simon’s fingers twine tighter in the bed sheets while Kieren focuses wholly and unconditionally on his pleasure.

It’s not until Kieren leans in to bite at Simon’s ass cheek that Simon gasps sharply and grunts out a garbled noise into the flesh of his arm. He can mark now, blood having reappeared in his veins almost a week ago, and the faint pink imprint of Kieren’s teeth is overwhelmingly appealing. Ducking back in Kieren sucks insistently at Simon’s rim, the sharp stimulation forcing Simon to lift his head and gasp out a ‘close’.

Immediately Kieren’s leaning away, giving Simon a few seconds to breathe before blowing warm air over his wet hole, watching the shiver that runs through Simon’s body. Waiting for Simon to edge back, Kieren runs soothing hands along Simon’s thighs and calves, massaging the muscles lightly to avoid any strain.

“Good boy.” Kieren says gently, rubbing the backs of Simon’s thighs, “You’re so good for warning me. God, you’re hot like this.”

When Simon’s stopped shivering and his breathing has gone back to a more regulated pant, Kieren leans back in, sealing his mouth over Simon’s hole and sucking. The noise Simon makes is more than appreciative, and for another few minutes Kieren just flicks his tongue over his sensitive hole. Eventually he pulls away for just a moment to lick a long stripe across his palm before going back to rimming Simon.

Kieren then reaches under him to take a firm grip of his cock, pumping it once, slow and firm.

Jerking again, Simon’s hips waver between thrusting into Kieren’s hand or back against his mouth, hesitating for only a moment before Kieren starts to stroke him tightly. Simon makes another low, needy sound and presses his hips back onto Kieren’s tongue while Kieren continues to jerk him off.

“Kieren, please-” Simon begins, but he doesn’t get to finish his plea, Kieren’s teeth sinking into the flesh of his ass cheek again. He gasps, thighs trembling, but Kieren just keeps stroking his cock, fingers sure and tight.

Knowing that Simon got the message to keep quiet, Kieren goes back to lapping at his hole while jacking him, moving his hand up to focus on the head. At the same time he firms his tongue and begins to trace Simon’s rim again, dipping his tongue in from time to time just for the little, broken noises Simon lets out. His other hand begins to drift, scratching blunt nails down the back of Simon’s thigh before reaching up and around to pinch at a nipple, making Simon’s breath hitch while he squirms. There’s saliva wetting Kieren’s shin now, but he doesn’t mind, just keeps laving his tongue over Simon’s hole while he strips his cock with practiced strokes, keeping him on edge.

Still, with the way Kieren’s thumbing at the head of his cock and licking insistently at his hole, Simon’s on the brink again in no time, hips beginning to jolt instinctively.

“I’m – _oh_ – close, Kieren.” He gasps eventually, just as Kieren feels his cock start to twitch and in an instant Kieren’s gone again, hand and mouth disappearing from Simon’s skin. Frankly Kieren adores the sound Simon makes, frustrated and aroused in equal measures and just the right side of desperate. He smirks and leans down to kiss and nip at the skin of Simon’s ass, enjoying the little spasms that shake Simon’s body as he does so.

“You should see yourself right now, ass up and begging for me.” Kieren murmurs, loving the thrill he feels run through Simon’s thighs at the words. “You’re so good for me, so hot and desperate. Good boy.”

Once Kieren has decided Simon is calm enough again, though his breathing is still laboured and uneven, he reaches for the vibrator. Cycling through the first few settings, he makes sure it’s on the highest one before leaning over to place a tender kiss on Simon’s shoulder blade where it’s still wracked with light tremors.

“You can ask permission to come when you’re ready.” Kieren breathes, giving Simon only a minute to consider his words before he’s holding the vibrator to the underside of Simon’s cock.

Simon’s whole body lurches, the sudden intensity of the vibrations making him keen and writhe, but Kieren doesn’t mind. He leans back in, laying several more bites to Simon’s ass before lapping at his hole again, tensing his tongue to then press it against Simon’s rim. For a moment Simon’s body resists, then he shudders and Kieren’s tongue slips in just that little amount that has Simon gasping and shivering all over again. In Kieren’s hand the vibrator buzzes loudly while he runs it slowly up and down the underside of Simon’s cock, timing it to fit the press of his tongue in and out of Simon’s hole. It’s not long before Simon begins to beg.

“Please, Kieren, please can I come?” He whines, hips working back and forth between the two sources of stimulation now. Kieren doesn’t respond, just keeps dipping his tongue past Simon’s rim before shift his hand, repositioning the vibrator right at the head of Simon’s cock. Immediately Simon’s hole clenches down, his hips quivering with the way he tries not to come, voice going high and reedy as he moans.

“Please,” Simon gasps, “Please, Kieren. I want to - _fuck_ \- I need to come.”

Smirking against Simon’s wet skin, Kieren draws back to run his tongue over Simon’s rim before slipping his unoccupied hand up to trace lightly at Simon’s hole. It makes Simon jerk, almost but not quite dislodging Kieren’s grip on his cock and the vibrator so Kieren tightens his fingers, Simon whimpering in response. Simon’s ass and thighs are covered in pink bite marks, the matching crescents giving Kieren a sense of ownership than only spurs him on. Still licking at his rim, Kieren rubs his thumb firmly over Simon’s hole, loving the way he can feel Simon’s every tremor and shake under his hands and mouth.

“Kieren, I can’t. _I can’t_ , please let me come.” Simon’s truly begging now, voice edging on sobs as he pleads for Kieren’s permission, “Please, I’ve been good, I want to come, _please_.”

Kieren feels a rush of pride and satisfaction at the wrecked sound of Simon’s voice, and he lays one final, wet lick over Simon’s rim before finally pulling back. He tightens his hand on the vibrator, Simon’s cock twitching and his breath stalling at the sensation, before finally speaking.

“Good boy. You can come.” Kieren says finally, just as he slips his spit-slick finger into Simon’s hole. In a heartbeat Simon’s coming, his back bowing and ass clenching down on Kieren’s finger while he sobs out moans.

Throughout the gasps and tremors Kieren keeps the vibrator held to Simon’s cock, not letting go until the aftershocks have passed completely and Simon has begun to sob softly while his body twitches violently. Only then does Kieren flick the setting down, cycling quickly to the lowest one before turning it off fully and drawing his hand away, finally giving Simon a reprieve. It doesn’t stop him from leaning in to lave his tongue over Simon’s hole a few lingering times as he draws his finger away though, enjoying the pained little noises Simon makes into his arms.

Eventually Kieren pulls back completely, his hands going to Simon’s hips to ease him down and onto his side on the bed before moving up to kiss him gently.

“You okay?” Kieren asks soothingly, thumbs brushing away the few tears gathered in the corners of Simon’s eyes. He still looks a little spaced out but nods nonetheless, so Kieren leans in to kiss him slow and sweet for several ling minutes while he’s pliant and relaxed, murmuring praise between languid kisses.

Eventually Kieren goes for a damp cloth for the minimal clean up, wiping down the fairly clean vibrator and the limited other mess. Dumping the cloth in the laundry hamper Kieren returns, flicking off the light and clambering onto the bed beside Simon, drawing the covers up over them. He cuddles up to Simon, throwing a possessive arm over Simon’s hip and tucking his dark head under his chin.

With Simon’s breathing so even now, Kieren almost thinks he’s asleep until he nuzzles closer to Kieren’s chest, humming contently. Kieren smiles, dropping a kiss to Simon’s dark hair and wrapping a little tighter around him, warm despite Simon’s cold skin.

It’s the first time Kieren sleeps in that bed since he found the knives, but his dreams, when they come, are only of Simon’s soft hands and warm eyes.

 

* * *

 

“I love you.”

It’s the first thing Kieren hears when he wakes, quiet and secret as it’s breathed into the skin at the back of his neck. Simon kisses the spot feather-light.

“I love you.” He repeats ever so quietly as he kisses along Kieren’s shoulder and back. “I love you. I love you.”

For a moment Kieren considers feigning sleep and pretending he didn’t hear it. For all he knows, Simon doesn’t mean for him to hear those words, spoken like a secret into the skin of his back, so really he’d be perfectly justified in remaining silent. But at the back of Kieren’s chest something has stirred, something small and fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, and it almost feels like the first time he felt his heart beat again.

Slowly, gently, Kieren rolls over in Simon’s arms. He feels Simon freeze, but Kieren already knows what he feels. After all this time, he knows what Simon means to him and he looks up at Simon, brown eyes catching Simon’s-

_Simon’s blue eyes._

Hesitating, Kieren’s gaze flickers from Simon’s eyes to his bare chest. Slowly he reaches up, lays a palm flat against Simon’s skin and waits.

Simon’s heart thumps happily against Kieren’s hand and it’s the most perfect, amazing, wonderful thing Kieren has ever felt.

He looks up at Simon, gazes into those newly blue eyes and watches the way Simon’s mouth curves into a hopeful, hesitant smile. Simon reaches across, their wrists crossing as he lays his palm over Kieren’s heart, feeling it beat in time with his own. Suddenly overwhelmed with it, Kieren begins to laugh, joy overflowing from his chest like wine from a cup and he can’t help it now, wouldn’t be able to keep the words in if he tried.

“I love you too.” Kieren says, and he kisses Simon like it’s the first time all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS TWO DAYS LATE!! I finally finished my exams this week but things were really hectic in the lead up so I had literally no time to write at all, so I'm super sorry this has taken so long. It's a bit longer than usual to make up for the last chapter being short, so hopefully it was worth the wait! 
> 
> All that's left now is the epilogue, which will only be a short thing to kind of tie up loose ends - so if there's anything specific you want addressed in the epilogue PLEASE let me know!!!!


	9. Epilogue

Amy and Phillip leave for university on a bright Thursday morning.

Everyone gathers at the train station to see them off, Amy’s many suitcases stacked like Jenga blocks at her side. Phillip almost seems shocked at how many people there are; Shirley, the whole Walker family, Simon and even Morgan all crowded around and exchanging tight hugs with Amy, then turning to embrace him too. When Steve mentions his look of confusion Phillip’s frown only deepens.

“I figured it’d just be mum. For me, at least, I knew Amy would have plenty of people wanting to see her off.” The funny little smile on his face only makes Shirley laugh wetly and throw her arms around her son, hugging him tight as they both sniffle. Sue smiles and glances at Kieren.

“Oh you,” Amy sighs, tugging Phillip’s hand where it’s twined with hers, “You’re just as popular as I am, silly.”

Beside Kieren Simon makes a noise, but he’s careful to keep it quiet enough that only Kieren and Amy hear it, the latter shooting him a warning grin. In the distance the sound of a train horn blares. Shirley extracts herself from her son and moves to stand beside Sue, who wraps a comforting arm around her.

“I guess this is it, then.” Kieren says, eyes on Amy. He tries to drink in the sight of her in these last few minutes. It doesn’t matter that she’ll be only a train ride away; he’s still going to miss her something fierce. Simon gives his hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it and pushing Kieren forward just a little. He doesn’t resist, heading straight in to hold Amy tightly, breathing in the warm smell of her skin one last time.

“We’re best dead friends forever, Kieren Walker.” She says softly into his strawberry blonde hair before pulling back to look at him. Their eyes, which haven’t been white for some time now, meet. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She says softly, but it sounds like a promise.

Kieren nods as the train appears around the corner, chugging towards the station slowly. Beside Amy Phillip has begun to fidget. When Kieren steps back, closer to Simon again, Phillip moves to Amy’s side and takes her hand.

“We have, um, a parting gift for you. Kind of.” He says, eyes flicking between Simon and Kieren while Amy’s face breaks into a grin. Dark and pale brows furrow and Kieren glances at Simon to see if he has any idea what Phillip means, but the other man looks equally confused. Rummaging in her orange coat pockets, Amy produces something and reaches out to fold it gently into Kieren’s hand, closing his fingers over it.

“Look after the place for me, okay?” She intones, still smiling. Still frowning slightly, Kieren looks down and opens his hand.

A set of familiar keys rest against his pale palm.

“Wait, what?” Simon says, eyes jumping to the couple across from them. To the side Shirley, along with Sue and Steve, is smiling at the two pairs, watching the exchange happily. “Amy, we can’t afford it.”

It’s Phillip who responds, Amy’s eyes on Kieren, who is still staring bemusedly at the keys to the bungalow that sit in his hand. “The rent’s not that bad, actually.” Phillip assures, “Amir sorted out some deals for you, and it’s pretty old anyway, so when you start paying-”

“Wait, when we start paying?” Kieren has found his voice again, eyes now jumping from Amy to Phillip with suspicion. “What did you do?” Regardless of how kind (and welcome) it would be, free accommodation in the bungalow is something Amy and Phillip really can’t afford to be giving out just as they start their studies. Behind him Jem, who is perched on Morgan’s lap on one of the station benches, giggles.

“Actually love,” Sue says as she steps towards her son, “It’s your dad and I that did something.” All eyes turn to her and Steve, both standing there looking a mix of pleased and embarrassed. The train is almost alongside the platform, so Simon has to take a step closer to hear when Steve begins to speak, wrapping an arm around his wife as he does so.

“Well, we figured what with you and Simon getting pretty serious now, you two might like a place of your own.” He smiles at Simon, who Kieren feels shy away a little from the affectionate fatherly gaze, his hand shifting a little in Kieren’s. “Beside, we had about five birthdays to make up for,” Steve explains, “Five months’ rent seemed to fit the bill.”

Five months. That’s almost half a year – half a year to begin building a life. They’re both alive now, hearts thumping in Kieren and Simon’s chests, blood colouring their cheeks from time to time.

Already Kieren has started looking into art courses at a few of the nearby universities, though he’s avoided the one he had originally been accepted into. Simon’s always been the more hesitant of the two, his part-time work at the tiny Roarton second-hand bookstore having been largely due to the owner being one of Kieren’s old English tutors (from third grade, he assures Simon. Spelling hadn’t always been Kieren’s strong suit). But this, a promised five months in which they had both freedom and certainty, this could be all they needed to finally start living again. To start a life together, the two of them. Kieren’s heart flutters in his chest.

Around them everyone is smiling, Amy in particular bursting into giggles at the no doubt shocked looks on Simon and Kieren’s faces. Surprisingly it’s Simon who speaks first, taking a hesitant step forwards towards Kieren’s parents.

“Sue, Steve, I don’t know what to say… how to thank you…” He begins, looking between the two and the overwhelmingly fond expressions on their faces. Kieren just watches, a warm feeling expanding out from his ribcage as he sees the way his parents look at Simon with such love, hoping that Simon can see it too.

“Just look after our Kieren, that’s all the thanks we need, love.” Sue says before reaching up to give Simon a brief hug, Steve clapping him on the shoulder when she draws away. From over Simon’s shoulder Kieren smiles at his parents, hoping his expression conveys just how much this means to him – not just the bungalow, but the way they’re so willing to love and accept Simon as a part of their family.

“Thanks.” He says quietly and there’s not a doubt in his mind that they hear it.

To the side Phillip has already begun loading his and Amy’s stuff onto the train, Simon rushing forward to help when the tenderness with which Kieren’s parents are looking at him becomes too much. Amy watches them appreciatively, winking at Kieren as they load the final trunk onto the train. Further up the conductor blows his whistle and everyone rushes in for their last few hugs. Even tentative Morgan, who had taken an immediate shine to Amy the first time they had met, scurries forward for a brief embrace.

Then Amy and Phillip are on the train, the doors shutting behind them as Amy hurries to lean out a window and wave while the train begins to move. The small group collected on the platform wave back, Shirley laughing through her tears when Phillip joins Amy in hanging out the window.

“Goodbye, Walker family!” Amy calls melodramatically, “Bye Shirley, mother to us all! Goodbye Jem and the beautiful Morgan!” Phillip is blushing scarlet at the scene Amy’s causing, but he grins just as wide as the group on the platform. “Simon Monroe, you look after my doe-eyed love! Same goes for you, Kieren Walker!” Amy bellows at last, the words making Simon flush prettily and Kieren laugh despite the prickling in his eyes. Even from the distance they can hear Amy’s wild giggles over the sound of the train, and the bright noise warms Kieren until Amy’s out of sight. The train curves around the bend and they’re gone, lost in the bright morning light. It’s a while before all gathered lower their waving arms.

“I love my Phillip, but I am going to miss that girl something fierce too.” Shirley says softly after a while and Sue lets out a surprised little laugh.

“You’re not the only one.”

Kieren turns and looks up at Simon’s striking features, dark brows over bright blue eyes that still watch the point where Amy disappeared. Yes, they would all miss Amy a great deal more than they’d admit. Gently Kieren takes Simon’s hand, the weight of the keys to the bungalow in his other palm a reassuring presence.

 

* * *

 

Kieren doesn’t move in all at once, gradually bringing his things from the Walker house to the bungalow over two weeks. It doesn’t stop him from sleeping in his and Simon’s bed almost very night.

The bungalow comes fully furnished, but to make it feel like it’s really theirs Kieren and Simon move some things around. The ‘spare room’ becomes a small studio for Kieren, who slowly populates it with canvases and paints, his watercolours arranged by colour on one of the small shelves. Simon changes the arrangement of couches in the living room to better suit his preferences, the old armchair being pushed back now that he spends the majority of his time on the sofa wrapped up with Kieren.

They also buy a few new things; a bookshelf for the bedroom that Simon slowly begins to fill, several fancy pots and pans that they take turns trying to cook with despite neither of them having any real culinary skill, a new, thicker duvet for their bed.

Amy’s bedroom they leave as it is, the smell of her perfume lingering in the brightly lit room and reminding them she’s only a train ride away.

It’s pretty unavoidable that the bungalow slowly goes from being Amy’s to being theirs. At first it’s just little things, like Kieren’s pencils lying around the house of Simon’s jumpers left hanging over the backs of chairs, the smell of Chinese takeout every Saturday night. Then it becomes other things, like chipped tiles and suspicious stains in the carpet.

“I told you the coloured candles were a bad idea, clear wax wouldn’t have shown up.” Simon mumbles sleepily, one arm hanging off the side of the bed where Kieren’s crouched on the floor. The red stain in question is small, but even as Kieren scrubs at it with a damp cloth he knows it’s not coming out of the cream carpet.

“The clear wax wouldn’t have worked for what I wanted though, would it?” Kieren grouches back, tossing the cloth down in a huff and clambering up onto the bed with Simon. Bony knees and elbows frame Simon’s body as Kieren hovers over him, the hand that had not been hanging off the bed rubbing lightly at his stomach. “Or, should I say for what you wanted?” Kieren amends.

Under Simon’s careful fingertips the red ‘K’ is stark against his pale abdomen, Kieren’s initial dyed there by both the heat and colour of the wax the Kieren had dripped over him not an hour earlier. Simon flushes a little.

“Yeah.” He says softly, but he’s smiling when Kieren leans down to brush their noses together, drawing back teasingly twice before allowing Simon to push up and kiss him. Kieren’s hand joins Simon’s on his stomach, their fingers twining loosely while they kiss.

When they eventually have to draw away for air Kieren smiles dopily and nuzzles at Simon’s neck, kissing and biting him gently over the faint marks left there by earlier play. There are still the barest imprints of fingertip bruises under the many hickeys Kieren has gotten fond of scattering across Simon’s body. Scarves have become Simon’s ‘thing’ according to an ever-smirking Jem.

“Love you.” Kieren murmurs into the skin of Simon’s neck as he settles more fully over Simon, skinny legs bracketing and tangling with Simon’s own. Above him Simon doesn’t even try to hide his blushing grin.

“Love you too.” Simon replies, slipping gentle fingers into Kieren’s flaxen hair.

 

* * *

 

Jem meanders in just as Kieren is filling the last of the boxes with his art supplies, his room eerily bare around him. Most of the stuff he’d had is either going to the bungalow or the tip, but several things remain, piled on the stripped bed for Sue to put away with her precious things; a few old art awards, a recent painting of the whole Walker family, a candid photo of Jem and Kieren bickering over a game of chess while Simon watches fondly. Kieren has a copy of that last one.

“Got everything?” Jem says conversationally, fingers trailing along the post at the end of Kieren’s bed while he lays another tin of paints in the box. Something about her voice is a little forced and makes Kieren glance up, the shuttered look on her face having him frowning in an instant.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t come in here to help me pack.” He jokes lightly. Jem’s eyes flick up to his, then she’s moving around to plonk down on his bed and lets out a heavy sigh that has Kieren concerned. “Is this about me leaving? Because I’m only going to be at the bungalow, it’s not that far and you can visit whenever you want, you know.” On the bed Jem smiles a little patronisingly, rolling her eyes as Kieren tries to reassure her.

“I know, dickhead. Surprisingly not everything’s about you.” She says and Kieren grins as he goes back to filling the box propped on his desk. Behind him he hears Jem shift. “I mean, it’s not that I’m not sad you’re going but…”

Kieren turns back to her again, brow furrowed as his sister lets out a loud huff, her face going pained for a second.

“Morgan’s trans. I found out last night.” She blurts, immediately glancing back down to her lap. Kieren, to be honest, is shocked.

“Um.” He says lamely. From the bed Jem scowls.

It’s hard for Kieren to get his head around it for a second. Sure, sometimes Morgan’s voice dipped surprisingly low when she sang along to Steve’s old 80s CDs, but she’s an amazing singer, so Kieren had never really questioned it. And yes, now that Kieren really thinks about it, she does have pretty broad shoulders, but so did half the girls in Kieren’s ninth grade soccer team. From what he’d seen at family dinners and frequent visits, Morgan is an incredibly sweet, if shy, young girl. She brings Jem flowers and make her smile more than Kieren had seen her smile in a long time. Honestly, the revelation of Morgan being trans makes no difference to his view of her as a person.

Glancing down, Kieren frowns when he sees that Jem’s still fidgeting on the bed, picking at her nails while resolutely not looking at him. Slowly, Kieren crosses to sit beside her.

“Is her being trans an issue?” He asks carefully, trying to make sure no judgement comes across in his voice. Frankly he’s pretty sure Jem’s trepidation is related to something else, some side issue, because he knows that Jem’s not the kind to reject someone for something as harmless as their gender. At least, he hopes she’s not. At his side Jem just shifts again.

“Um, well…” Jem says slowly, cheeks going pink in what Kieren really, really hopes isn’t shame about Morgan. “You see…”

“Jem, I swear to god, if you’re about to tell me you don’t want to date this girl anymore because she-”

“No, Kier, that’s not what I- it’s not the-”

“God Jem, you learned to accept a pansexual zombie for a brother but you can’t-”

 _“I don’t know how to give a blowjob, okay!”_ Jem hisses then and the words stop Kieren in his tracks. For a minute the siblings sit in silence, Kieren staring at Jem and Jem staring at the floor. Then-

 _“What?”_ Kieren gasps incredulously, watching Jem’s face go from pink to crimson.

“I don’t know how!” She whines, “I mean, I’d done all the- I googled how to eat a girl out, but I’ve got no idea how to suck a girl’s dick!” Kieren wonders if he looks as horrified as he feels, but Jem’s too focused on glaring a hole in the floor to notice his expression. “And then last night we were making out, and I went to open her pants but - well, you can imagine - and then she told me and I kinda… like I told her I’m all fine with it, because I am and I really like her regardless, but still…” Jem trails off and for a moment Kieren can’t talk from the shock of it.

“So you came to me?” He blurts, “You actually came to your big brother to ask how to blow someone? Oh my god, Jem, I didn’t need to- please don’t ask me how to- Jesus Christ, why did you ask me?” Kieren’s dangerously close to shrieking but Jem’s finally turned to him, frowning despite her still red cheeks.

“You weren’t my first choice, I was going to ask Amy!” She insists, “I think Morgan actually already told Amy about it, to be honest. Her being trans, that is. But Amy wasn’t answering her phone and Morgan said she was okay with me telling you she's trans, so I figured you were my next best option.”

“You didn’t think to google it?” Kieren tries, but honestly he’s starting to see where Jem’s coming from.

“Well, yeah, but it was kinda confusing and all the porn was really… aggressive.” She mutters and Kieren grimaces from both excruciating embarrassment and firsthand knowledge of what Jem’s talking about. Mainstream porn kinda sucks.

He lets out a long sigh. Explaining to his little sister how to suck her girlfriend’s dick felt wrong and weird on so many levels, but when Kieren looks at Jem’s face and sees how worried she seems, notices the fear in her eyes…

Kieren scrubs a hand over his face.

“Okay, I’m only going to tell you this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again.” He grumbles. At his side Jem starts before smiling at him hopefully.

The next night when Morgan drops Jem home Kieren watches her little green car sit at the dark curb for about ten minutes before the two girls emerge. When he walks to meet Jem in the foyer she’s pink-cheeked and looking incredibly proud, her hair a little bit mussed and Morgan’s skirt suspiciously rumpled. Jem throws him a thumbs-up after she kisses Morgan gently goodnight.

 _“Oh my god._ ” Kieren whines and scurries back to the safety of the living room.

 

* * *

 

“And you’re absolutely certain you don’t want to wait the five minutes until my break so we could all sneak off for a quickie?” Rowan teases as they scan each of the items laid across the counter. For his part Kieren only rolls his eyes, used to their casual joking advances by now.

“Not today.” Simon assures absently, eyes glancing over the flavoured lubes arranged in a phallic shape where they’re displayed by the side of the counter. “Your work?” He asks Rowan, gesturing to the lube. Rowan laughs.

“Nah, that was all Betty. Unfortunately I’m not quite that creative.” They say, ringing up and bagging the last purchase – a pair of frilled panties. Simon only blushes a little when Rowan smirks at him and folds the panties neatly, but Kieren loves the tinge of pink in Simon’s cheeks to he lets Rowan off with a raised brow.

They pay for their purchases, the black ‘Dionysus’ bag a heavy promise when Kieren passes it gently to Simon, their fingers brushing. Inside, among their usual purchases, is something new and untested and as much as it makes them both a little nervous, the thought of trying it out has them both ready to bolt to the train in a rush to get home. Simon’s cheeks are still flushed and Kieren can’t wait to see them pink with arousal instead.

“Go on, get out of here before one of you jumps the other.” Rowan teases lazily, leaning forward on their now tanned arms, warm fingers reaching out to brush Simon’s shoulder. Their eyes, which are now a true, storm grey, crinkle in an easy smile. “And if you ever decide it’s something you want, I’m always here to join in the fun.” Rowan says it to Simon but glances at Kieren as they pull back, lips curving playfully. “At your whim, of course.”

Simon’s still flushed when they leave but his hand is sure in Kieren’s, who waves and smirks at a grinning Rowan as they head out the door. Perhaps one day they’ll take Rowan up on their offer, but not until Simon’s ready for it and Kieren doesn’t have even the slightest inclination to push him. Just as they reach the bottom of the stairs Kieren stops, Simon’s hand tugging before he realises Kieren has paused and he turns around.

Standing a step above Simon, Kieren has to lean down to kiss him, Simon pushing up onto his toes a little when Kieren’s tongue slips between his lips. It’s a brief kiss and Simon leans in for more even when Kieren pulls away with a laugh.

“Come on, let’s get you home before we get booked for public indecency.” Kieren says, but he drops another kiss to Simon’s lips before leading the way back to the train station. There are no seats on the train so they have to stand, Simon holding onto one of the ceiling grips and Kieren holding onto his waist. After two stops Simon passes Kieren the nondescript Dionysus bag, freeing up the hand that’s not holding them steady to wrap around Kieren’s shoulders.

The bag bumps gently against Kieren’s knee the rest of the way home and he has to nuzzle his face into Simon’s neck from time to time to hide the flush whenever he feels that particular item through the plastic. God, he’s excited.

By the time they get to Roarton both Kieren and Simon are ready to run home to the bungalow, but they contain themselves. Still, they can’t help the nervous grins that they share as they hurry home hand in hand, Simon’s eyes flitting to the bag every now and then. He bites his lip whenever he glances at it, and eventually Kieren has to lean in and bite that tempting lip on one of the backstreets, making Simon laugh then groan. They walk a lot faster after that.

The second the bungalow door shuts behind them it begins, Kieren catching Simon in a brief, searing kiss.

“Go to the bedroom,” He instructs when he pulls away, a steady hand on Simon’s throat keeping him from leaning in for more. “Undress and wait for me. I’d like you kneeling on the bed.” Kieren hesitates before giving in and allowing Simon another hot, wet kiss. Then he draws back and slaps Simon sharply on the ass, making Simon groan and hurry down the hall to their bedroom, the sound of his belt hitting the floor filtering back to Kieren.

Taking his time, Kieren removes his coat and hangs it on the rack by the door before toeing out of his shoes and rummaging through the bag in his hand. Finding what he wants quickly, he drops the bag on the floor and turns to lock the front door, leaving the bag in the hallway for the time being. He waits another two minutes for good measure, but the thought of what’s about to happen, of what Simon has offered him, have Kieren already half-hard in his pants. Unable to wait any longer, he heads for the bedroom.

The curtains in the bedroom are drawn, leaving the room dimly lit despite the afternoon sun outside. The pale light that does get in makes Simon’s skin glow, the raised pink scar that runs the length of his back shiny and healed in the half-light. He’s perched on the end of the bed, knees tucked under himself and facing the headboard with his hands linked loosely at his back. Kieren breathes in slowly, the now familiar sight still overwhelmingly hot to him.

Slowly Kieren moves forward, loving the way Simon’s shoulders seem to loosen more with Kiren’s every step closer. When he’s standing by the foot of the bed Kieren reaches out to trail he item in his hands gently along the back of Simon’s arm, letting it rest against the palm of his relaxed hands. Simon barely shifts, only shivers finely at the contact.

“You’re sure about this?” Kieren asks quietly. On the bed Simon nods but Kieren leans in to kiss his shoulder lightly, running tiny kisses up to the side of his neck. “Answer me, Simon.” He says.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.” Simon responds quickly, already a little out of breath despite Kieren having done nothing but kiss him tamely. For a second Kieren pauses but when Simon shows no signs of tensing up Kieren slowly reaches down to work at the item in his hands.

“If at any time you want to stop all you have to do is say ‘red’ or your safe word. If you want me to slow down or tone it back a bit all you have to do is say ‘yellow’.” He recites as he rearranges Simon gently, turning his arms so that they rest together across the small of his back, each wrist pressed to the opposite elbow. “What’s your safeword?”

“Yeats.” Simon says with certainty and Kieren pauses just long enough to twist Simon’s dark head back for a kiss. He nips at Simon’s lips as he pulls back to return to working at Simon’s arms, loving the colour already high in Simon’s cheeks.

Kieren breathes out slowly and reaches own to begin looping the soft, red rope around Simon’s arms, moving from his wrists upwards. The knots come easily after weeks of practice with an old, frayed rope he found in the shed but they looks so much better against Simon’s soft skin. For over a month they had talked about it, testing boundaries with hands and loose neckties, Kieren holding Simon’s wrists hard enough to bruise and finding Simon tracing his own fingertips over the marks days later. In the end it was Simon who asked for more, Simon who had held up one of Kieren’s drawings of bound wrists and asked for it.

“Colour?”

“Green.” Simon gasps and Kieren knows he isn’t imagining the excited hitch to Simons’ breath.

Never in his life has Kieren felt more trusted than in this moment, carefully looping the rope around Simon’s elbows, then ups his biceps and across his chest, binding him tightly. Kieren secures the rope steadily when he’s done, then leans in to gently kiss each of Simon’s slack palms.

_“Good boy."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done!!!!! This epilogue was originally only going to be about 2k words but it got away from me. 
> 
> I seriously can't believe this is the end - I feel like I've been writing this fic for years instead of months! Thank you all for reading and commenting on the fic, I know the In The Flesh fandom is small and not all that active, so it's really lovely to know you guys care and keep coming back for this silly little fic of mine. Special thanks to everyone who ever left a comment and all the wonderful people who left kudos - this kept going because of you guys!!
> 
> As always, please leave comments telling me how you feel about the fic (especially now that it's finished!!!) and pointing out any mistakes I've made. Also, I'm not trans myself so if I've messed anything up with Kieren and Jem's conversation about Morgan's gender, please let me know!


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